


Recipe for Me

by TwistingMoonbeam



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Confused Thomas Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, Friendship, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders Needs a Hug, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, but can janus be trusted?, poor janus just wants to be part of the squad, pretty much everyone needs a hug tbh, thomas is so done with his sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistingMoonbeam/pseuds/TwistingMoonbeam
Summary: Janus tells Thomas he wants a section in "Recipe for Me" to reflect his new place as an accepted side. Thomas is on board, determined to make Janus feel appreciated for the ways he's been helping Thomas ever since the wedding.The hard part, he knows, will be convincing the other four sides to approve of this new version of the song...especially when this is all happening right after the wedding. With friendships tested, loyalties questioned, and secrets spilling out into the open, Thomas is in for the ride of his life as he is faced with his newest dilemma. What was more important: making a new side feel welcomed, or potentially losing the sides that have been there since the beginning?Title and chapter names taken from "Recipe for Me" by Thomas Sanders.
Relationships: Thomas Sanders & The Sides
Comments: 52
Kudos: 151





	1. I'm No Authority on Anything But Me

“No, you _didn’t_ like that cheeseburger, and yes, you _should_ have sent it back.”

Thomas nearly jumped a foot off of his couch. There he’d been, sitting with his laptop, answering some work emails, when a voice, smooth and silky like melting chocolate, had rang out from his right. 

He whirled to the side, shocked to find his deceitful side leaning against the arm of the couch on his hip, filing his nails. He nonchalantly flexed his hand to inspect his fingertips, his yellow gloves stretching from the force. From Thomas’s angle, he could only see the snake side, the pink eyelid and pattern of green scales standing out against his plain, white walls. He didn’t look at Thomas, like he was keeping things too casual.

“Janus,” Thomas said, the name still odd on his tongue. Calling Deceit by his real name felt similar to trying a new food for the first time, or dying his hair a new color. Every instance of using it was a tiny leap of faith further into unfamiliar territory. It wasn’t bad—on the contrary, Thomas was ecstatic to know Deceit’s name. But using the name symbolized that Thomas had accepted his selfishness, his tendency to lie to protect himself, his instinct to act on his own desires that, at the end of the day, burned just as bright as his instinct to act on the desires of others. 

It was a step forward. But a step toward what, Thomas didn’t know yet.

“That’s what they call me,” Dece— _Janus_ quipped. “And when I say ‘they,’ I mostly mean you, Patton, and Remus. Even though I know the prince must be _dying_ to throw my name around, though I doubt in a complimentary manner.”

Thomas winced. And with one sarcastic comment, Janus had caused the unfortunate side effect of his most recent _Sanders Sides_ episode to crash into him like...well, a train (appropriate, considering that very same episode). He hadn’t spoken to Roman much since Janus had been accepted, and still hadn’t spoken to Virgil. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Janus had been popping up more and more to help Thomas with his everyday dilemmas.

In other words: things were super weird. 

“What’s up?” Thomas asked, quickly wanting to veer the topic away from Roman. 

Janus’s gaze slid his way, and it reminded Thomas of his father’s gaze whenever Thomas played dumb about breaking a rule or missing a chore when he’d been a kid. It was sharp with the urge to chastise, with an underlying level of exasperation. “Thomas. The cheeseburger you had at the diner with Joan. You didn’t like it.”

Thomas sighed. “Okay, so it was a little underdone—”

“A _little_?” Janus demanded, fully turning his body toward Thomas. His (over)dramatic typical outfit of his capelet, bowler hat, and gloves were out of place in his relatively normal living room. “That burger was still _mooing_ , Thomas. And you didn’t send it back because you didn’t want to come off as rude to that cute waiter.”

Thomas flushed, casting his eyes downward. “But...sending food back is so drastic,” he argued. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “You won’t be singing its praises when you get sick from eating undercooked beef.”

“Janus!” Thomas glanced around, half-worried he would accidentally summon Virgil from his worry over potentially getting sick (and then worrying that his worry about accidentally summoning Virgil would end up summoning him instead...okay, ending that spiral _now_ ). “I’m not gonna get sick.”

“All I’m saying,” Janus relinquished with his hands held up in surrender, “is that there’s nothing wrong with sending back bad food, as long as you request it properly. If you’re polite and civil, you won’t come off as rude. But valuing coming off as ‘nice’ over food safety is dangerous.” His eyes were stern, but Thomas could spy the concern pooling in them. “You have to prioritize your safety, Thomas. Your health should always come first.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Thomas allowed with a sigh. “That was dumb of me. I should have asked for it to be cooked to my liking. But that waiter was so _cute_ ,” he emphasized. “What if he thought I was a jerk for sending it back?”

“Then he thinks you’re a jerk for sending it back,” Janus replied with a shrug. “No skin off of your bones. You’re healthy in that scenario, Thomas, and not at risk for a trip to the ER to get your stomach pumped. So, I’d call it a victory.”

Thomas nodded, lips puckering in slight embarrassment. “You’re right,” he reiterated, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s my bad. Thank you...Janus.”

The tension drained from Janus’s shoulders—but only a bit. Thomas still noticed that he was hunched, as if bearing some sort of burden. “You’re _not_ welcome,” he said, leg jiggling.

“But...there’s something else,” Thomas realized. 

Janus breathed in suddenly through his nose. “No.”

Thomas made a face. “Uh, that means, ‘yes,’ right? Sorry, still figuring out your ‘speaking in lies’ thing.”

Standing up straight, Janus met Thomas’s eyes, a serious moment being exchanged between them. Thomas felt a chill rocket up his spine from the way Janus was looking at him. His deceitful side was rarely this stern, but any time he had been in the past had usually meant he was going to drop a truth bomb on Thomas. 

“There is something else,” Janus admitted. “I find that I’m just...struggling with how I would like to address it.”

“Oh.” Thomas fought back the urge to gawk. _Janus_ was struggling with how he wanted to address something with him? Normally he was one of the presidents of the Be Too Honest with Thomas Club (the other president being his always-so-blunt anxiety). Thomas did his best to stifle his surprise and uneasy interest. “Well, whatever it is, it’s okay to talk to me about it,” he offered, trying for a reassuring smile. “We can work through it together.”

Janus gave a single curt nod, smoothing out his clothes and intertwining his hands. “Very well,” he said, all business. “Then I suppose I’ll cut to the chase. You accept me as an integral and worthwhile side of your personality, correct?”

“What? Of course!” Thomas spluttered. He closed his laptop, sensing he was about to dive into a deeper discussion than he’d been anticipating. “I mean, you’ve been such a help since the wedding. Why do you ask?”

Janus gestured outward with a flourish, a frown carved into his mouth. “While I acknowledge you’ve allowed me to provide my assistance more since the wedding debacle, I want to confess that I’ve still felt...disregarded.”

Guilt zapped through Thomas like an electric shock. “Gosh,” he said. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, Janus. I thought since you’ve told me your name, we were good. You still don’t feel like you’re a part of the family?”

Janus wrinkled his nose at the word _family_. “I feel that you’ve finally come to understand the merit that can follow when you listen to my advice,” he remarked. “But I will be honest, I don’t think you’ve done enough to show me that you truly accept me as a part of you. There’s a difference between accepting _me_ and accepting my guidance.”

Thomas blinked, caught off guard by the hurt that pricked his skin. “Oh,” he replied, his voice small. “I...I didn’t know. I’m sorry. What can I do to show you how much I appreciate you as a part of me? I want to prove it.”

Janus raised his head, seemingly performing calculations. The gears were whirring, Thomas could tell, and he figured out in that moment that Janus knew _exactly_ what he wanted Thomas to do, but he was still debating if he wanted to propose it. His eyes scanned Thomas up and down, appraising (and probably judging, Thomas thought) before he responded.

“I’m sure you remember ‘Recipe for Me.’”

Thomas kept his face blank, baffled. “Uh, yeah.” The original song had, at the time, been one of his team’s largest undertakings. Writing the lyrics, filming the music video, editing everything together with the amazing animation and special effects—it was an experience he was never going to forget. The song had been a huge hit on his YouTube channel and Spotify, as well, especially for its unique connection to his _Sanders Sides_ characters.

“It’s to my understanding,” Janus told him, snake eye watching him carefully, “that each section of that song represents one of your sides?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Or, the sections are inspired by them, in a way, I guess.” Thomas squinted at him suspiciously. “Where are you going with this?”

“I just find it interesting,” Janus drawled, “that even though I’m a newly welcomed side, my section of the song has yet to be produced. Perhaps you’re dragging your feet on the lyric writing process? I _am_ the most complicated of your sides. It’s certainly not possible to sum up my glory in thirty seconds of a song, but I’d have thought you surely would have drafted up a few versions at this point.”

“Wait.” Thomas gaped, a giggle making its way up his throat. “You...you want a part in ‘Recipe for Me’?” 

Janus glared, daring Thomas to laugh at his request. “It’s a song about the ingredients that make up _you_ ,” he hissed. “I’ve heard the song dozens of times, and there is _no_ lyric that refers to me. No chorus, no chord, no melody. You speak of accepting me, and yet there is a song that exists that completely neglects to celebrate what I bring to the table. It’s a wonderful song, and you know I mean that. But how am I supposed to feel when I continue to be ignored?”

It was like Thomas had been sucker punched. The remorse ebbed like a bruise, and Thomas physically curled inward, holding back a pout. “I never thought about it like that,” he said quietly. “I mean, we wrote that song so long ago, that it never occurred to me that leaving you out would end up hurting your feelings. I’m sorry, Janus.” He channeled the guilt into strength and sat up, determination brightening his demeanor. “I’m gonna fix this! You deserve a section in ‘Recipe for Me.’ You’re a super important part of me, and of everyone!” He regarded Janus confidently. “My goal in _Sanders Sides_ recently has been to explore the necessity of self-care, and I learned everything I’m trying to teach others from you. You deserve a proper ‘thank you.’”

A grin split Janus’s face, both wicked and genuine at the same time. “I appreciate that, Thomas,” he said. “But I think you’ll find that the bigger obstacle you’re going to encounter is convincing the others to be on board.”

Thomas’s smile wobbled, but only slightly. He waved a hand, hoping to come off as unaffected and cool. “I’ll handle them. How hard can it be to convince everyone just to add a little more to a song? Don’t you worry, Janus. This won’t be a problem.”

As Janus sunk out, a single thought crossed Thomas’s mind.

_For the love of Anthony Ramos, this is gonna be a problem._


	2. I Couldn't Tell You Why I Am Who I've Become

Thomas stared up at his ceiling, frowning.

It was midnight, and he was in bed, resisting the urge to scroll through Tumblr while he waited for sleep to come. In the heavy darkness of his bedroom, he could barely make out the rough, rocky patches that covered his ceiling, or the posters stretched across his walls. Crickets chirped outside his house, and a sliver of moon peeked out from behind clouds that he could see from his vantage point in bed. It was a quiet night in late spring, and all was tranquil.

All except for the conflict that raged in his head.

Thomas squirmed, praying his clashing thoughts wouldn’t summon any of his sides. Since he’d spoken to Janus earlier that day and learned of his deceitful side’s desire to be included in an updated version of "Recipe for Me," Thomas had been torn on how to proceed. 

He wanted Janus to truly feel accepted as a side. He wanted his behavior to reflect his gratitude toward Janus for being a fierce advocate of Thomas’s mental health. He wanted to let Janus in and learn everything about his mysterious deceitful side, peeling back the layers and understanding this part of himself that had scared him for so long. 

But Janus had said it best: getting his other sides on board was going to be...difficult.

Thomas wiggled his toes, warmth spreading through his feet. He was comfy and content in bed, but he couldn’t shake his apprehension. In an attempt to get organized, he broke down where Janus was with all of his sides.

Logan: not...horrible? The two certainly butted heads, especially over Thomas’s incessant indecisiveness, but he got the feeling they respected each other, in a weird way. They were the two most cerebral sides, always locked in a battle of wits, as Logan was typically the only side who could use logic to shoot down Janus’s suggestions. But Logan had also agreed with Janus in the most recent episode of _Sanders Sides_ , pointing out how foolish and harmful it was to find more value in selflessness than his mental well-being. 

So, talking to Logan was probably going to be easy. But at the same time, Logan would most likely do what he always did: present the pros and cons objectively, without an ounce of emotion. He wasn’t going to really have a problem with including Janus in the song, because he wasn’t really going to care. (For better or for worse.)

Next: Patton. This was the one he expected to go swimmingly. As of the most recent episode, Patton and Janus were buddy-buddy. Patton had completely turned over a new leaf (lily pad?) when it came to Thomas’s deceitful side, frequently collaborating with Janus when it came to Thomas’s choices. Just the other day, when Thomas had been struggling between taking the night off after a busy day or going out with some friends from high school he hadn’t seen in a while, Patton had advised alongside Janus for Thomas to rest, even if he was disappointing his friends. It was jarring, but Thomas was pleased with how much Patton had grown since the wedding. So, Patton was going to be enthusiastic about writing a part for Janus in the song.

Roman...was where things got complicated. His light creativity had been having a tough time since the wedding. He’d left the conversation on less-than-ideal terms after they’d learned Janus’s name, and he’d been a huffy, sullen mess ever since. He and Janus hadn’t been in the same room together (at least in the real world), and Thomas was sure Roman was going to put his foot down at the mere _concept_ of Janus getting a part in "Recipe for Me." The song was precious to Roman, as he and Thomas had worked together personally rehearsing and performing it for the music video they’d filmed with the team. It represented everything they’d accomplished with _Sanders Sides_ and Thomas’s befriending of the different parts of his personality. As they’d all witnessed in the "12 Days of Christmas" video, Roman did _not_ appreciate when people took creative liberties with his work. Thomas guessed this was a potential edit that he wasn’t going to be happy about. 

And then there was Virgil.

Thomas rolled over, folding his pillow over his ears and groaning. Things had never been more awkward between him and his anxiety. Ever since Virgil had revealed that he’d been a Dark Side, he’d barely made any appearances, popping up when Thomas got particularly anxious and stuttering some quick scraps of advice before vanishing. There was no way in _hell_ Virgil was going to agree to Janus getting a part in "Recipe for Me." He didn’t even know Janus had been accepted yet!

Thomas winced. Breaking _that_ bit of news to Virgil wasn’t going to be pleasant.

He flopped over, untangling himself from his blanket. This was a strange situation to be stuck in. Half of him saying yes, half of him saying no—but why did it matter? His sides disagreed on almost everything. Why was it important to Janus that everyone be okay with him getting a section in some song?

_Because it’s not true acceptance if half of you hates me._

Thomas nestled into his mattress, biting his lip. The thought fluttered by like a butterfly, but stung like a bee. If it had been uttered by Janus himself, or if it actually was just him talking to himself, he didn’t know. But the surfacing of the thought certainly felt like truth, in it being painful and eye-opening in equal ways.

So that was it, then. Thomas could accept Janus with open arms, but until all of his sides accepted him too, it didn’t mean a thing. He had to _show_ Janus how much he accepted him into the group. And he had to prove it in the only manner Thomas Sanders knew how: in _song_.

 _You could record Janus’s part and just not tell the other sides._ A nasty instinct gnawed at him, like a dog on a bone. _Who cares if they don’t agree? It’s YOUR song. It’s none of their business if you make some changes._

Thomas frowned again, hesitantly considering. It was a good point, but at the end of the day, he knew Janus was sending a message. He was testing Thomas to see how far he would go to prove himself. How much adversity would Thomas face to show Janus how much his help had meant to him?

He recalled the Final Boss Battle that had broken out in his head during his meltdown after the wedding. Patton, so overwhelmed by his confusion over how to help Thomas, morphing into LilyPadton and striking him with his own lack of self-worth. Roman, off to the sidelines, completely lost now that his moral compass was spinning out of control. Thomas, facedown in the dirt, aching and woozy from his own heart lashing out and becoming a monster.

But Janus. Janus, throwing off his disguise and stepping out onto the battlefield. Janus, pushing Thomas behind him after snatching him with a shepherd’s crook and putting himself between Thomas and his Light Sides, as if they were the bad guys. Janus, protecting him and standing up for him.

Janus, fighting for him.

Janus, fighting for _him_.

After all of that, to quote one of his favorite Disney movies, he was willing to go the distance.

“Ooh, _Hunkules_!” a nasally voice sang out from under his bed. “What a _delicious_ choice for tonight’s main course, Tommy! I’ll be sure to include him in your _special_ dreams later.”

Thomas put a pillow over his face, trying not to scream into it. “Remus, not now, please,” he pleaded, voice muffled.

His dark creativity slithered out from under Thomas’s bed and slunk up to the ceiling, like some disturbing combination of the Boogeyman and Freddy Mercury. He was beaming maniacally, his teeth glowing like a nightlight in the pitch black. “You know, Tommy, technically, he was one of your first celebrity crushes! You should totally do a video on the Disney princes you had a certain filthy affinity for when you were little.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Thomas quipped, hiding his blush in vain. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Sure, sure! A _growing_ boy needs his sleep!” Somehow, Remus’s crazed grin stretched farther across his cheeks. “Just don’t think too hard about those _rippling pectorals_ and that _dashing smile_. Oops, too late!”

 _“Remus,”_ Thomas warned.

Remus released a high-pitched cackle that would have put a hyena to shame. “Nighty-night, Tommy! Sweet dreams!”

In a flash and a fit of giggles, Remus was gone.

Thomas turned over in bed, inhaling deep with relief and exasperation. 

_At least HE doesn’t want a part in "Recipe for Me"…_

_Yet._


	3. They House My DNA, Which Makes Me Myself

The next morning, Thomas dragged himself out of bed, groggy from a tumultuous night’s sleep. He’d run himself ragged thinking over his plan of attack for consulting his sides on Janus’s part in “Recipe for Me,” and all that had achieved were wrinkled sheets from tossing and turning and an even more ravenous appetite for caffeine. A.K.A.: he’d achieved nothing.

The sky was overcast this morning, pale and gray like granite. He opened a window, the smell of incoming rain swooping in and filling his kitchen. Pulling his robe tighter, he started brewing some coffee and reached up to grab a mug from his cabinet.

Without meaning to, he’d pulled the adorable Logan-themed mug that a fander had gifted him at a convention a few years back. He smiled at the nerdy glasses, brains, and tiny jars of Crofters that adorned the navy blue mug, thinking of his logical side. 

Pouring hot coffee into the mug and taking a couple of steadying sips, Thomas nodded to himself. He cleared his throat, looking out into his kitchen.

“Hey, Logan?”

Thomas’s logic suddenly rose up, sitting at his kitchen table. Open before him on the table was one of Thomas’s old chemical engineering textbooks, and a copy of Thomas’s mug was clutched in his hand, nearly overflowing with black coffee. He blinked, seemingly surprised at being summoned. 

“Good morning, Thomas,” Logan said. “I apologize if I appear unprepared. I wasn’t aware there was a dilemma to discuss so early in the day.”

“Ah, I’m sorry for catching you off guard.” Thomas scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not anything too crazy. As long as you’re not busy…”

“Well, I _was_ in the middle of catching up on some reading, but I suppose I am available to disperse my top-notch assistance.” He conjured a test tube-shaped bookmark and slid it into the textbook. After he conjured it away, Logan met Thomas’s gaze, eyes sparkling with intrigue behind his glasses. “Now. What can I do for you?”

“So…I kind of just need your approval on something. But I also really want your opinion?”

“I can potentially provide you with both. What is all of this about?”

God, Thomas hadn’t practiced any of this. Why hadn’t he done his spiel into a mirror before summoning the first of his sides? Especially the side that was the most astute at seeing right past flowery language, and the side that was most likely to call him out on any BS. For one panicky moment, Thomas didn’t know where to begin.

He managed to cover this up when a yawn slipped by. Rubbing his eyes, he watched Logan squint at him, already dubious.

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night?” Logan asked. “Per the sleep schedule I designed for you, these signs of exhaustion should not be occurring.”

“Er, Remus just kept me up with some... _risque_ dreams last night,” Thomas admitted, flushing slightly.

Logan plucked one eyebrow. “Dare I ask?”

“Let’s just say Hercules was involved.”

“Enough said. So, is that what you’d like to ask me? A question regarding The Duke? The data I’ve been compiling shows that you’ve become much better at combating him and intrusive thoughts.”

“No, your advice has been working, normally he’s not that much of a problem.” _More like a pest._ “I actually wanted to ask you something about Janus,” he added, quickly ripping off the bandaid.

Logan remained impassive. “Ah, yes,” he said, his voice clipped. “The newest addition to the group. Officially. It is official, is it not?”

“It’s official,” Thomas confirmed. “So, that’s actually the thing I wanted to ask you about. Yesterday, Janus came to me with a...request.”

“A request,” Logan echoed. “Of you?”

“Yeah. You remember ‘Recipe for Me,’ right?”

“The song Joan wrote for you to record for the channel? Yes, of course.” Logan smiled. “While I don’t often comment on your works, I must say that the titillating feeling always comes back when I think of the anatomical facts in regards to H2O that are celebrated in my section. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Right,” Thomas answered, his own smile uneasy. “So, Janus kind of came to me yesterday and said...he wanted a _part_...in ‘Recipe for Me.’ Like, a part _about_ him.”

Bafflement engulfed Logan’s expression. “I’m sorry, Thomas, run that by me again,” he said. “He...specifically requested of you...a part in a song. About him.”

“Yeah. But he doesn’t want to do it unless you and the other three agree to it. Hence,” Thomas said, gesturing up and down toward Logan, “why I summoned you.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, drinking his coffee. “Just when I think I’m beginning to understand him,” he murmured, “he confounds me.”

“Right?” Thomas concurred, sitting down across from Logan. “I mean, you’re my logic. How you feel is _literally_ how I feel. I think we’re making great progress with him, and all of the sudden, he pulls something like this out of his hat.”

Logan made a face. “He pulled this request out of his hat? Your deceit can also perform magic tricks? Astounding.”

“No, I—ah, never mind,” Thomas said halfheartedly. “So, what do you think? What should I do?”

Logan stared down into his coffee, tapping his finger against the side of the mug, puzzling. A sense of smugness came over his ever so slightly, draped over him like an expensive new coat. “Well, I don’t know, Thomas,” he replied primly. “What _should_ you do?”

“Uh.” Thomas shifted in his seat, coffee turning into gasoline in his mouth. “I...don’t know? That’s why I’m asking you? You’re my logical side. I need your advice.”

Logan stuck his nose in the air, arms crossed over his chest. “You certainly do need it. But I don’t think you realize how valuable it is. Or how valuable _I_ am as a side.”

Thomas’s jaw dropped. First Janus, now Logan? “What—what do you mean?” he stammered. “I thank you for your help all the time! I wouldn’t have even been able to survive meeting Remus if it wasn’t for you.”

“True, our spirited and educational episode about intrusive thoughts was primarily spearheaded and as successful as it was due to my leadership. Nevertheless.” Logan folded his hands together on the table, as if they were negotiating the terms of a contract, and not talking in the middle of Thomas’s kitchen. “The events of the most recent episode, and how I was treated during the most recent episode, have given me more than enough evidence to show that I am not respected properly. My wisdom has been ignored. You become so consumed by your... _emotions_ ,” he added, like the word tasted bitter, “that you disregard logical decision making and how it can negate an already escalated predicament. You disregarded me in favor of fostering an unhealthy focus on your emotions and your passion. Moreover, I changed my form to present myself in a manner that was more accessible to you. Do you even know how _itchy_ all of those pixels were? I looked simply ridiculous. And yet, I adopted that form. In order to help you.”

Thomas’s coffee was already lukewarm. He pushed his mug away as remorse burned through him like liquid fire. He’d wronged two of his sides, and he had no idea he’d even done it. “Oh, man. Logan. Jeez. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—”

“I don’t have any feelings that could have even been hurt, Thomas,” Logan cut him off, his tone icy. “I am merely voicing my complaints. So that you understand that perhaps Janus is not the only side who has been experiencing some neglectful treatment.”

A slow drizzle had started outside, raindrops pitter-pattering against his windows and roof. Thomas lived in Florida, so he knew the rain would come and go quickly, as most freak storms did. But evidently, the real storm was building right there in his own home. Or, more specifically, his own head.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” It felt like Thomas had been apologizing a lot lately. But suddenly, he didn’t have the strength to explain further. He was just sorry. An apology was all he could muster. 

“I know you are, Thomas.” Logan nodded, a deliberate motion to acknowledge Thomas’s effort. “Thank you for allowing me to speak freely. I hope moving forward, we can continue to brainstorm more productive ways to work together.”

Thomas nodded back, but his nod made him feel like a bobble head—unlike Logan’s nod, which had been swift and in control. 

“And for the record,” Logan went on, his glasses shining as he adjusted them on the tip of his nose. “In regards to my approval and my opinion. If it legitimately holds worth for you—sure, give Janus a part in the song,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “If having a few verses in a song written about him is all the proof he needs of his place in this group, allow him this small victory. You’d ultimately be winning the war, as he will continue to provide a perspective that is purely concentrated on _your_ needs and wants. A perspective that, as we have learned, is integral for your health. If the others aren’t in accordance, they potentially run the risk of exacerbating Janus’s feelings of neglect, which will cause him to retaliate.”

Logan finished his coffee, gently placing the mug back onto the table. “In other words,” he said, “if they don’t agree, they run the risk that you will get hurt, in some way or another.”

Thomas was quiet, Logan’s words sinking in. He was finally getting some directions, but he still felt like he was encountering one fork in the road after another. “So, you think it’s the right thing to do?”

“I think it’s a thing you _can_ do.” Logan shrugged. “And that’s a start. Can I help you with anything else this morning, Thomas?”

Thomas shook his head. Follow-up questions bounced around in his head— _But will it cause more fighting between the sides if I write a part for him? Is there a compromise we can find in the middle? How do I stop messing everything up?_ —but he didn’t ask them. He’d gotten a yes (technically). It looked like everyone was winning some small victories today.

“Understood,” Logan said, rising from his chair. “If that’s all you require my presence for, then I will be returning to my book. Good luck on the rest of this endeavor.” He paused. “Utilize logic when you speak to the other three. That may be the only way to win them over on this. While I don’t have a personal grudge against Janus, you know Roman and Virgil do, and Patton is still recovering from his...tadpole-esque tantrum. They’re vulnerable from what transpired after the wedding.”

“And you’re not?” Thomas demanded.

Logan coolly pushed in his chair, face unreadable. “Have a pleasant rest of your day, Thomas.”

Without another word, he sunk out.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

“A little birdie told me you spoke with Logan,” Janus said.

Thomas glanced at his deceitful side’s reflection in his mirror. He’d been in the midst of styling his hair when Janus had appeared, leaning against the doorframe in the entrance of his bathroom. Janus kept his head bowed and his arms hidden in his capelet, the air about him sneaky and sleek, like they were having some secret rendezvous. 

“Your little birdie’s right,” Thomas said, running a hand through his hair one more time. “I talked to him.”

“And?” Janus prompted.

“He...he said yes.”

Janus twisted his neck, his snake eye capturing Thomas’s gaze. “Really?” he asked. He sounded both disbelieving and delighted.

“I mean, he doesn’t really _care_ , so I’m not shocked,” Thomas went on. “But yeah. He’s okay with you having a part in the song.”

“Excellent.” Janus’s grin caught the light as it appeared, glinting like his scales. “One down, three to go, eh?”

Thomas hummed his assent, passing Janus on his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He could feel Janus watching him as he busied himself by thumbing through his closet, trying to pick out a shirt.

“I take,” Janus said slowly, gliding into the bedroom, “that the conversation went well?”

“Sure.” Thomas pulled a gray T-shirt on, debating if it matched his new jeans, or if he should switch to the black V-neck he liked so much. “Short, sweet, and to the point. Just how Logan prefers it,” he added under his breath.

Janus frowned. Thomas could feel him doing it again—using his x-ray vision, seeing right through Thomas, and pinpointing every single fleeting tatter of negativity. Dissecting it, and diagnosing its origin in Thomas’s inherent need to be _good_ , and how this was _bad_. Janus, for some reason, was one of the few sides who could always immediately pick up on it if something was wrong. Sometimes trying to do good even for yourself was convoluted. 

“So everything is...fine,” Janus clarified, giving Thomas one of his _I know everything is not fine but I’m going to wait until you tell me first_ looks. 

Thomas exhaled, and pasted on a happy-go-lucky smile. “Don’t worry, Janus. Everything’s fine.”

“Very well.” Janus was unconvinced, but bid Thomas goodbye anyway, leaving Thomas to begin his work day.

Thomas sighed. He sat on the edge of his bed, fidgeting, and honed in on his sides, trying to detect if anyone else was going to pay him a visit today.

But no, he didn’t sense anything.

Thomas was left alone, more confused than ever, as he listened to the rain.


	4. Rewrites, Losses, Gains, and Rearrangements

So, talking to Logan hadn’t gone according to plan.

It was early evening later that day. The rain had died down significantly, and now was just a lazy spattering of leftover drops dripping from trees. A dreary lull had followed as the storm subsided above his head. Thomas had just finished dinner and was doing the dishes, eager to settle down and watch some TV before he went to bed. He furrowed his brow, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain at the bottom of a pan.

_Janus is not the only side who has been experiencing some neglectful treatment._

Thomas breathed angrily through his teeth, warm water from the sink splashing onto the front of his shirt. His conversation with Logan that morning had haunted him all day, creeping up on him like Remus when he felt inspired by a horror movie Thomas had just seen. He gave up on the pan, leaving it to sit in a puddle of bubbles, while he dried his hands with a towel. Peering out past his sink, he couldn’t help but grimace, a knot of agitation getting tighter in his chest.

The living room had been empty ever since “Putting Others First.” The last side to be in here had been Janus the day before, but between that and the newest episode of _Sanders Sides_ , the whole group hadn’t been brought together in what felt like forever. When was the last time it had just been him and the main four sides, standing around in a circle and squabbling about another one of Thomas’s silly dilemmas? When had things become so serious between him and his sides? Everything felt so heavy now, weighted down by moral decisions, self-doubt, and secrets coming to light. Heck, the most recent episode had centered around whether or not he deserved to survive nearly being run over by a train! When had everything changed?

_When Janus entered the picture._

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut. _That’s not fair,_ he argued with himself. But it felt correct, if he really assessed things. Before Janus came into his life, meetings with his sides had never felt this life-or-death. There had never been any talk of ethics or if Thomas’s goodness dwarfed any badness. It had never even been a question of _if_. It had always been an assumed certainty he could count on, when he was down on himself. Despite how frustrating life got, one truth had always been there to comfort him: Thomas was a good person. 

_Everybody says so._

Thomas scowled at the spot next to the stairs: ironically, the place both Janus and Logan stood during _Sanders Sides_ episodes. This spot, he decided, was cursed. He’d managed to piss off both of the sides that stood there in some form, and Janus had only been an official member of the team for a few weeks. That had to have been a new record for him.

Thomas poured himself a glass of Chardonnay to help him sleep ( _No more Hercules dreams, Remus,_ he thought, and he could have sworn he heard a familiar nasally groan in response) and sat on the couch. The work day was over, and he had knocked quite a few tasks off of the to-do list: three meetings about upcoming videos, approving final versions of scripts, filming a short video for Instagram, and flipping through mock-ups of possible new merchandise for the store. He was tired, but he was also restless. 

He was appalled at the idea that he’d been discrediting any of his sides for any reason. They were all necessary; they all had something crucial to contribute. Treating any of them as anything even close to unimportant, even accidentally, made him want to jump out of his skin. How could Thomas have the gall to go on and on about _finding balance_ when he’d apparently been causing so much chaos? 

Logan and Janus, cast aside.

Virgil and Roman, betrayed.

Patton, questioning him.

_No._

Thomas drank his wine, the dry sweetness scorching his throat. He was spiraling again, assuming the worst in a scenario that maybe was for the best. The dynamics between him and his sides were changing, but maybe that change was as necessary as the sides themselves. It had to change before it could get better. He had to stretch to get rid of the ache. Change was not bad.

And looking around feebly at his vacant living room, filming equipment for _Sanders Sides_ piled nearly in the corner, Thomas could feel change soaking into him like a bloodstain.

Banishing the negative musings from his brain, he considered his next move. While consulting Logan hadn’t been _enjoyable_ , per say, it had been successful. Logan had given the thumbs up to writing a part for Janus in “Recipe for Me.” Who did he dare approach now?

Immediately, his mind soared to Roman.

_God, Roman._ Just mentioning him made Thomas drink more of his wine. Interacting with Roman had been like walking on eggshells ever since Janus had been accepted. He’d been making himself sparse, only appearing when Thomas summoned him, even though he used to show up all the time (unannounced). And when he did show up, he provided his guidance begrudgingly, offering a comment here or a suggestion there about Thomas’s current projects. If his passionate side was still passionate, he hadn’t been showcasing it.

Thomas’s fight with Logan today had left him feeling bad.

Thinking of Roman made him feel awful. 

Bleary-eyed, Thomas rubbed at his forehead. Something was swelling in his heart, and despite trying to contain it, a desperate call burst from his lips.

“Roman?” 


	5. I Have More Dreams to Fulfill

As Roman rose up into the room, Thomas instantly knew this was a bad idea.

His creative side was haggard, his mouth set in a steely frown and a crease pinched between his eyebrows. His usually well-maintained and regal suit was wrinkled, as if he’d been flinging it onto the floor when removing it (instead of ironing it and hanging it up, as he had detailed to Thomas once in discussion of his nightly routine). His hair hung in his face, instead of slicked back with that single strand falling on his forehead. Everything dashing and princely about Roman had been drained, like he’d gone from Technicolor to a dull shade of gray.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest, not being discreet at all in pouting and turning his head away petulantly. “Oh, hi, Thomas,” he said. “I didn’t think you were going to summon me this late. Especially now that you have your new _friend_ to help you.”

_Jesus Christ Superstar,_ Thomas thought. 

“Well, I wanted to talk to _you_ , Roman.” Thomas sipped gingerly at his wine, hoping to gain some liquid courage. “How are you?”

Roman gaped, arms flopping to his sides. “How _am_ I? _How am I?_ Thomas, you’ve got the audacious audacity to say that to me? After the blatant display of misplaced trust that I witnessed in the last episode? How do you _think_ I am?”

_Oof._ This was going to be harder than Thomas had anticipated. He placed his glass on the side table, hands folded together in his lap. “Ro, I get that you’re upset about Janus. I know this is a big change. We’re in unfamiliar territory, and it’s freaky. But I’ve made my choice. Janus is a part of the team now. I need you to accept that.”

“I’m sorry, did you _miss_ the time when that snake lied to all of us for his own benefit?” Roman paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, that’s right! Trick question! Because _every_ time we see him, he’s lying for his own benefit.”

“Roman, _his_ benefit is _my_ benefit!” Thomas insisted. His pulse was thrumming in his neck like a lightning bug in a jar. This conversation was already heading downhill. He could sense a potential argument simmering between them, but he didn't want it to escalate into a fight. “I know you don’t agree with his... _methods_ , but he’s done a lot of good while in the group. He’s teaching me to put myself first. Isn’t that worthwhile to you?”

“Of _course_ it is!” Roman took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked like a kid lost in the mall and searching for his parents. Every inch of him was tense, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the sash across his torso. Perplexity and unrest were deep-set in his face like crow’s feet. He’d endured a lot in the past few weeks, and it was taking its toll. 

“What is it, Ro?” Thomas asked gently.

“It’s just…” Roman sat down next to Thomas on the couch, turning his body to face him. “I would never stand in the way of what’s best for you.” His voice was quiet. “But I don’t trust him, Thomas. I don’t think he’s acting purely in your self-interest. I think he has ulterior motives, and that you’re just a pawn in his little game.”

Thomas startled, eyes widening at Roman. “You think...what, that Janus is _using_ me?”

“I think he has a master plan,” Roman confided grimly. “With intentions that go far beyond simply helping you practice self-care. His abrupt appearance after the wedding wasn’t just because he wanted to help you. It was a power play. Step One in his plan.”

“His...plan,” Thomas repeated. His head felt stuffed to the gills, reactions and opinions jumbling together into one big mess. “And what is his _plan_?”

Roman glanced around the room, as if fearful Janus would barge in and stop him from revealing a secret. Biting his lip, he said, “He wants full control of you, Thomas. Of everything you do and think and say. He wants the Dark Sides at the top of the food chain.”

Recoiling, Thomas fumbled to his feet. _“What?”_ He put distance between himself and Roman, attempting to put distance between himself and this apparent truth. “What are you talking about, dude?”

“He’s getting you on his side so that he can slowly start to influence _everything_ you do,” Roman went on, standing up from the couch. “That’s why he wants to be accepted. Not to help you and work with us, but to have full control of your entire life. He wants to be in charge of you.”

“So you think he’s lying to me,” Thomas accused. “You think he’s pretending to care just to have control over me?”

“I don’t think he doesn’t care,” Roman answered, earnestly scouring Thomas’s face for agreement. “But I think he’s misleading you on what exactly he cares about.”

Thomas shook his head, pacing his living room. His gaze snuck back to Janus’s spot next to the stairs. The last time he stood there, he had spoken to Thomas so suavely, but with barely-concealed worry. Could it possibly be that Janus had been wearing the ultimate disguise this whole time: the guise of a friend?

“Where is all of this coming from?” Thomas demanded, whirling on Roman. “How did you figure all of this out?”

Roman cringed, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I, uh...I’ve been keeping a certain Paramore-obsessed pal of ours company since the last episode. So I’ve been keeping him up-to-date. About everything.”

Thomas’s blood froze, every vein encased in ice. He swallowed, reaching out a hand to hold onto the wall for support. “You’ve…” He tried again. “You’ve been talking to Virge.”

“Yeah,” Roman replied, his tone pointed and annoyed. “Since you haven’t.”

The impact of Roman’s jab made Thomas feel like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Things are weird between me and him right now, alright?” he snapped. “I don’t need anymore guilt tripping about it.”

“Oh, because who’s been doing the guilt tripping? Deceit?” Roman’s laugh was haughty. “I’m shocked he hasn’t thrown a party yet, now that Virgil is upset and holed up in his room.”

“Do you even know what he told me, Roman? Do you even know what happened between us?” Thomas asked hotly. This conversation was taking a turn Thomas hadn’t expected, but he couldn’t stop, even as it all collapsed around him. Roman had touched a nerve. 

“In fact, I do, Thomas.” Roman stared him down, daring him to interrupt. “Virgil told me everything. What Deceit did to him, what Deceit has done to you, your reaction when Virgil told you the truth. It’s downright hypocritical, Thomas. You accept Deceit as this uber-helpful Dark Side who is inciting change _within_ you, but you reject the Dark Side who has actually shown how much he was willing to change _for_ you? Virgil just wants to _protect_ you from Deceit. Why would you push him away?”

“ _Reject_ him? I haven’t rejected Virgil!” Thomas cried, aghast. “I...I would never push him away.”

“Then why haven’t you talked to him in weeks?” Roman challenged him, arms thrown outward. “Why haven’t you addressed any of this with _any_ of us in weeks? Virgil thinks you hate him. He thinks you’re trying to replace him with Deceit. And quite frankly, I don’t blame him. I think you’re trying to replace all of us with that snake.”

Deep down, Thomas knew this was Roman trying to defend Virgil and conquer his own feelings at the same time. But in the moment, Thomas had never felt so attacked. He was nearly speechless from the fury that was radiating off of Roman like an aura. 

“And _then_ imagine my surprise,” Roman continued on his tirade, “when Logan approaches me and tips me off on the fact that you want to include Deceit in ‘Recipe for Me’? Are you _kidding_ , Thomas? I poured my heart and soul into that song. It is a symbol of _us_ and how we make you amazing. Now you want to taint it with a verse about Deceit?”

Thomas’s mouth dropped open. “Logan told you about ‘Recipe for Me’?”

“Of course he did. Because he knew how absolutely _irate_ I was going to be about it and wanted to warn me! How could you go this far, Thomas?” Roman pleaded, suddenly weepy. Angry tears shone in his eyes, one sliding down his cheek. “How could you sully the very song that represents how perfect things were before Deceit? How could you choose him over me? I thought I was your hero! _I thought you were good!_ ”

The house lapsed into silence. Thomas could only hear Roman’s outraged breathing and the roaring in his own ears. He narrowed his eyes and took a step back from his creative side, resentment and pain washing over him like a waterfall. 

_It had to change before it could get better._

“I think,” Thomas said, voice small but strong, “that I should go to bed now.”

Roman squared his shoulders, sniffling. “Fine, go to bed,” he spat. “But remember this, Thomas: you sided with the snake. Don’t come crying to us when you’re suffering from his bite and need someone to suck out the venom.”

Then he sunk out, leaving Thomas to finish his wine.


	6. I Grow, Then I Make Changes

The next afternoon, after lunch, Thomas summoned Janus.

Janus emerged seemingly out of nowhere, and it was clear he’d been caught by surprise. He had cucumber slices over his eyes and an avocado-green cream all over his face, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe with his snake emblem embroidered in the upper left chest. Realizing he was in the living room, Janus plucked one of the cucumbers off of his snake eye, peering at Thomas with irritation.

“Thomas, isn’t it your day off?”

“It is,” Thomas said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Then what could you _possibly_ be stressed about? Choosing which of your video games to play? If you should stay in or go out? From where should you get pizza? Chop chop, you’re losing daylight.”

Thomas hacked at a hangnail, the sting forcing him to focus. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. If you’re not busy.”

Janus gave him a look, as if to say, _I’m kind of in the middle of something here._ But he sighed, and with a flick of his hand, his bathrobe transformed into his typical outfit. Face mask and cucumbers gone, he huffed at Thomas, leaning against the wall next to the stairs. “No, I’m _not_ busy,” he lied. “What would you like to talk about, Thomas?”

Thomas mulled for a minute. Janus was in _his spot_ , like this was a normal episode of _Sanders Sides_. But he wasn’t ready to bring all of this drama into the series yet. He had to handle one problem at a time. Which meant he had to tackle this situation and resolve it before it ballooned into something huge.

Because Roman _couldn’t_ be telling him the truth.

Right?

“I want to talk about your motivations,” Thomas declared. He was so nervous, his toes were digging into the tips of his sneakers like plants sprouting from dirt. “And the bigger picture here.”

“The bigger picture,” Janus echoed. He cocked his head, analyzing in a manner that had sweat slipping down Thomas’s temple. “And that means…?”

“I have reason to believe,” Thomas said, adjusting his seat on the couch (why was everything earth-shattering happening in his living room?), “that your intentions toward me are contentious, equivocal, and spurious. I would like to deliberate on this topic. Please.” 

Janus maintained his gaze, bored. “Did you get all of those vocab words from Logan? Or did you use Merriam Webster for that one? Since, you know, you and Logic aren’t on great terms right now.”

Thomas winced. “No, I knew all of those words. I...I have great diction.”

“I know when you’re lying, Thomas.”

“I’m lying?”

“Your diction is shit.”

Okay, he had Thomas there. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” An amused twinge shaped Janus’s lips. “You want to do a Q&A with me for the channel? Fine, I’ll participate, if your viewers are dying for answers. For one, concerning my relationship with Remus—”

 _“Whoa,”_ Thomas cut in, a blush coloring his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant—”

“All I was going to say is that we’re friends.” Janus snorted, eyeing Thomas knowingly. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Thomas. Though, I must blame Remus for that quality, if we’re being transparent.”

“Okay, you know what,” Thomas objected, gesturing to fan away all of Janus’s implications. “Let’s just get to brass tacks here.”

“Brass tacks?” Janus reiterated with a smarmy smile. “That’s a new one, too, Thomas. It looks like Logan’s syntax lessons have really been paying off—”

“Are you trying to control everything about my life?” Thomas rushed the accusation out through his teeth. 

The clock on his phone ticked to two p.m. A car zoomed by his house outside, obviously speeding, as time halted in his house. He waited, on edge, as Janus digested the words. His deceitful side was expressionless, fingers drumming against the railing on his staircase.

“Why,” Janus finally said, “are you asking me that?”

“Because—” Thomas faltered. “I had a source tell me you were just helping me to gain control of my decisions. You just want to be in charge of me. You don’t actually...care about me.”

Janus jerked, staring at Thomas, bewildered. “I don’t _care about you_? Thomas, that’s my _job_. To care about _you_ : not what people think of you, or other people at all, or any part of you that you’re not prepared for. I’m here for you, your desires, and your protection. Whoever said I don’t care about you doesn’t know who they’re dealing with.”

Thomas hesitated, buffering like an old computer. He felt the connection to Janus, and knew his statement to be true. Janus _did_ care. Then why would Roman say that?

Why would Virgil _think_ that?

“Who told you such a thing?” Janus demanded. His snake eye glinted murderously. “I’ll bet I can guess.”

“Okay, don’t get mad.” Thomas blew some of his hair out of his face. “I heard it indirectly. A...little birdie told me.”

Janus chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. “So how about you? Do _you_ think I’m manipulating you in order to control every aspect of your life? I’m the puppeteer, and you’re just my silly dancing marionette? One pluck of your puppet strings and you’re as selfish as I want you to be?”

“What? No!” 

“Thomas.” Janus’s eyebrows twitched downward. “Again: I sense lies.” 

“I’m not lying, I—” The heels of Thomas’s palms pressed into his eye sockets. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t _feel_ like I’m lying. I just feel…”

“Wary,” Janus supplied, his tone flat. “Distrustful.”

“ _Not_ distrustful!” Thomas scrambled to find a word that was less insulting. “I’m just...nervous. About this whole situation. It’s becoming so much more than I thought it would. I mean, I’m just trying to get you a part in a song, and it’s World War III!”

“And _there_ is our problem,” Janus proclaimed. He gestured outward to the room, his cape flaring out like the hood of a cobra. “Riddle me this, Thomas: do you have reservations because your sides don’t like me? Or do your sides not like me because _you_ don’t trust me?”

Thomas practically felt himself shrinking under Janus’s accusation. “Is...is that a trick question?”

Janus sighed, deflating. Everything about him seemed to droop, like he’d run out of energy. “Thomas. I want you to put your trust in me. I want you to know, deep down, that no matter what, I will never lead you astray. My intentions are always to look out for you. _My_ way of looking out for you is always going to be different from your other sides, but they’re rooted in rectitude.” His voice soured, taking on a bitter edge. “Perhaps you’re not ready to accept me.”

“I am!” Thomas pleaded. “Really, _really_ I am. But there’s just a bit of...uncertainty. That’s all. This is all happening really fast,” he added with a slightly hysterical laugh. “Can’t we take some baby steps or something?”

Janus swung away, hands in fists. “I had hoped ‘Recipe for Me’ _was_ a baby step,” he hissed. “But it’s clear you don’t believe me. You perceive me as the villain. You’re _doubting_ me, Thomas. And they’ve turned you against me.”

Thomas could feel Janus about to leave. Another side, walking away from him, fed up with his indecisiveness, his issues, his _weakness_. His mind raced back to the showdown with LilyPadton, Janus’s arm stretched out in front of him, wielding his shepherd’s crook like a majestic torch, prepared to guide Thomas to the truth. And willing to take on whatever or whoever in order to get him there.

“NO!” Thomas surprised himself with the exclamation, but all of his emotions were mixing and mashing together within him like cookie dough. He stood up straight, his mouth set in conviction. “I’ve made my choice,” he declared. “I accept you as a side. You are a crucial, helpful, _necessary_ part of me that deserves recognition for your hard work. I don’t care what the others say. I accept you, Janus.” He met Janus’s eyes. “And they’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Janus blinked, astonished. But then a wicked grin split his face. “A bold move, Thomas,” he snickered. “I appreciate it. _Admire_ it, even. It seems I’ve finally excavated that fighting spirit I know you for from under all of that cotton candy goodness.” He quieted, nodding at Thomas, thankful. “I feared I’d lost you, in the fog of your morality, but it doesn’t look like that’s the case. You’re still here, and you’re stronger than ever.” 

Thomas was taken aback by the abrupt compliment, but before he could reply, Janus was gone in a flurry of black and yellow. 

Alone, he went to the refrigerator, pouring himself a much needed pick-me-up of coffee over ice. As he gulped down the cold brew, he couldn’t help but ponder as his heart started to hammer. 

Thomas had drawn his line in the sand.

But was he on the right side? 


	7. So Will They Accept Me Now or Ever?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Just as a warning: this chapter contains the description of a panic attack. Please feel free to either skip to the end of the chapter or the chapter in its entirety if you are not comfortable reading about this event.  
> Thank you for reading and stay safe!  
> \- TwistingMoonbeam

Initially, Thomas had formulated a plan on how to solve the Virgil problem. 

It went as follows: Thomas was going to summon his anxiety and they were going to hash it out. No holding back—he was going to leave it all on the table. His feelings about Virgil being a Dark Side, about Virgil avoiding him for weeks, about Virgil convincing Roman that Janus was some sort of mustache-twirling bad guy. They were going to discuss it like adults, and then they were going to move past it. But regardless, Thomas was going to be well-equipped, listing all of his points on an index card he would keep in his pocket. He wouldn’t be flustered or ill-prepared. It would all work out.

He should have known his plans would fall apart.

Because instead of Thomas summoning Virgil, his anxiety decided to come to him.

Unannounced. 

While Thomas was in bed.

At three twenty-one a.m.

_“Thomas Foley Sanders.”_

It felt like an organ had ruptured from the sheer amount of anxiety. Thomas sat up in bed, panting, as he squinted into his dark, blurry bedroom. In the shadows near his window, he could barely make out a sulking figure, staring at him with glimmering brown eyes.

“...Virge?” Thomas whispered.

The figure exhaled through his nose, lurking like the Boogeyman. 

“Thomas,” Virgil breathed. “What did you _do_?”

In that moment, Thomas’s delirious brain could only compute three things.

Virgil—the side that he hadn’t seen in weeks—was here, in his room.

Virgil—the side that typically called him out on his mistakes—was insinuating that Thomas had done something wrong.

And Virgil—the side who had a lot of awkward problems with right now—was _pissed._

“Virge, what’s going on?” Thomas mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “It’s the middle of the night.”

He reached for his bedside table to flick on his lamp, but stopped when Virgil hissed in dissent. Virgil came closer to the bed, and as he stepped into the stream of starlight, Thomas’s skin went clammy. 

Virgil looked, for lack of a better word, terrible. He was paler and more upset than Thomas had ever seen him. His purple hoodie hung loose around his body, hair messy and thin like hay. His nails were bitten down to the quick, eyeshadow charcoal-black on his face. Anger rolled off of him in waves, and he hung back before getting too close, as if coiled and ready to spring. He was seething, and Thomas could feel the mountain of anxiety beginning to crush him.

“You accepted _him_?” Virgil cried. “After everything I told you? After all the times I’ve _warned_ you?”

 _Oh, jeez._ Thomas hadn’t even imagined enough bad case scenarios to be ready for this. But he knew he had to act rationally in order to muddle some solution out of this. Mentally counting five things he could see, he said, “Who told you?”

Virgil scowled, tensing up even more. “I know I’ve been keeping a low profile,” he growled. “But I didn’t think it was going to lead to anything bad. I thought I was doing the right thing, taking a step back. Turns out I was _wrong_ , because the one time my head is turned, you’re joining forces with that _snake_?”

“Let me take a crack at it,” Thomas said with a sinking feeling. “It was Roman, right?”

Virgil angled his body in a defensive stance. “Yeah, it was. At least Princey has the decency to keep me in the loop. What did you _do_ to him?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to Roman.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Then why did he burst into my room last night like someone committed arson to his Disney movie collection? I’m sure my room didn’t help, but…” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Whatever you said hurt him,” he added, tone sharp. “And that’s not cool, Thomas.”

“Virge, can’t we do this in the morning?” Thomas watched another minute tick by on the clock, and the need for sleep was nearly drowning him. The past few days had been emotionally exhausting, to say the least, and all he wanted to do was sleep and forget about his issues for a while.

“ _No_ , we can’t.” Virgil didn’t budge from his position in front of Thomas’s bed. “Because I have to know what lies he fed you so that I can prove them wrong. What’d he say? He wants to ‘help you’?” He made the quotation marks gesture with his fingers. “He wants what’s ‘best for you’? He ‘cares’ about you?”

Thomas flinched. “How did you know that?”

Virgil’s glare seared like a branding iron. “Because that’s the same crap he told me.”

Thomas leaned back into his pillows, bringing his knees up. Pensive, he asked, “Is that why you don’t like him? He lied to you?”

“About a lot of stuff,” Virgil replied. 

“And...he hurt you.”

“That’s why I’m here, Thomas.” Hands buried in his hoodie pocket, Virgil curled his lip, suddenly faraway. “I’m your anxiety. I’m supposed to tip you off when I sense danger. I know we’re not on great terms...and I know you may not trust me as much anymore...but if you trust me about anything, it has to be this.” His eyes darted to Thomas, sincere and shining in the gloom. “He may have hurt me in the past, but I _won’t_ let him hurt you. He can’t be trusted.”

Thomas’s spirit felt pummeled. It was all becoming too much, but he had to stay strong. As touched as he was by Virgil’s protectiveness, he promised Janus he’d pull this off. 

He believed in Virgil.

But he believed in Janus, too.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Thomas started, trying not to psych himself out. “Seriously, I appreciate you looking out for me, Virge. And I appreciate your input. But…” He shrugged helplessly. “You weren’t there when he helped me out the way he did. He talked me off the _ledge_. I was losing it and he stood up for me when no one else was. I can’t just...shut him out. Janus has been a _huge_ advocate for me—”

“Wait.” Virgil had gone still as stone. “What did you just say?”

“Um.” Thomas was unnerved. “That Janus has been an advocate—”

 _“JANUS?”_ Virgil roared. He backed away, trembling. “He told you his name?”

“Yeah, he wanted to prove himself as trustworthy,” Thomas explained, frowning. “What’s up?”

“Thomas, don’t you know what that means?” Virgil paced across his bedroom, a swirling storm about to be unleashed. “You let him _in_. You opened the door. There’s no going back from this. God, he told you his _name_. I never thought he would stoop so low. You _actually_ accepted him!”

“Well, it was kind of hard _not_ to, considering I was on the brink of a mental breakdown when he showed up!” Thomas argued. His blood was running like river rapids, panic setting in heavy and thick. _Virgil’s_ panic.

“Don’t you _get_ it, Thomas? It’s all part of his plan!” Virgil was crazed, hands yanking at his hair. “He’s orchestrating this whole thing! He found you at your most vulnerable and is using the help he gave you against you. But he doesn’t want to help you! He wants to _control_ you and make you a bad person!”

Thomas’s throat felt like it was closing up. He gagged, hunching over and twisting his blankets in his grip. “Virge,” he choked. “You—you’ve got to calm down—”

“This is just the beginning, Thomas!” Virgil’s tirade grew more distressed as he hyperventilated, his voice distorting as his Tempest Tongue took over. His eyeshadow doubled in diameter, streaking down his cheeks as he wiped at it frantically. “Now that he’s got you, he’s never gonna let you go! He’s gonna smooth-talk you into anything he wants! You’re gonna lose your friends and family once they realize how selfish you are, then you’ll lose us, and before you know it, _he’s all you’ll have left_ —”

 _“Virgil!”_ Thomas croaked.

Virgil jerked, his head swiveling to Thomas. The pallor of his face got worse as he saw Thomas struggling through a panic attack. He tripped on his way to the bed, grabbing Thomas’s shoulders in a vice-like grasp.

“In for four,” he instructed, his Tempest Tongue receding. “Hold for seven. Out for eight.”

They sat there for a few minutes, locked in the breathing exercise that slowly but surely chased away the panic. When their breathing finally evened out, Virgil let go of Thomas’s shoulders, and Thomas got out of bed, hovering near the doorway.

“...I’m sorry,” Virgil said, hugging himself. “I should’ve kept it together. That was just...a shock.”

Thomas refused to look at him. He was tempted to leave, but it occurred to him that this was _his_ room, and it would be dumb to leave when Virgil would just have to follow him. He felt for his heart, and it was still thumping erratically under his shaky fingertips.

“But that’s why Deceit can’t be here,” Virgil went on, urgent and insistent. “He’s not good for you. You’re still afraid of him.”

“Am I?” Thomas asked, his back to Virgil. “Or are _you_?”

“Wha—Thomas,” Virgil scoffed, as if scolding him. “Don’t go around pointing fingers when we’re a part of _you_. Get it together.”

An unprecedented bout of aggravation flowed through Thomas like lava. He felt like he was going to blow. One by one, his sides had been chucking revealed secrets and emotional outbursts at him like throwing knives these past couple days. And apparently, also talking about him behind his back. First Logan tells Roman about “Recipe for Me,” and then Roman tells Virgil about Janus joining the team?

Maybe he couldn’t trust his Light Sides as much as he’d thought. 

“Oh, _I_ have to get it together?” Thomas shot back, standing his ground as he turned to see Virgil. “Because if you ask me, I’m having deja vu. This is just like what happened with Remus. This isn’t a _me_ problem. This is a _you_ problem.”

Virgil’s nostrils flared. The shadows laced around his body, as if forming a suit of armor. Normally, Thomas would be intimidated when Virgil got mad. But this time, he was just going to get mad right back.

“Careful, Thomas,” Virgil warned. “Don’t be dense. You know I’m only watching your back.”

“So withholding the fact that you used to be a Dark Side?” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, well aware that he was about to poke the bear. “That was you _watching my back_?”

Fear and pain flickered across Virgil’s face before it contorted into becoming stoic. “That was for your own good.”

“Really?” Thomas deadpanned. “Because it sure didn’t feel like that. It just felt like another secret you were keeping from me. Like you were just being super paran—”

“I didn’t want you to look at me differently!” Virgil snapped with a sudden ferocity that made Thomas jolt. “I was scared you were gonna look at me...the way you are now. Thomas, please, this is the _last_ thing I wanted to happen,” he begged, on the verge of tears. “You have to know that.”

“Maybe I don’t. In fact, there’s a lot I _don't_ know anymore,” he admitted, overwrought with melancholy. “But I do know this: Janus helped me when you were probably off hiding in your room. Janus valued what _I_ wanted, instead of what was best for the rest of the world. He was there for me when I needed him, and there for me in a healthy way. And after talking to all of you,” he added scathingly, hoping the other sides were listening in from their respective rooms in his mind, “I think he’s the only side that’s not lying to me.”

Virgil was silent, his complexion ashen.

“So if you don’t mind,” Thomas said, half of him impressed with how harsh he was being and the other half appalled, “I’d like to go back to bed now.”

His anxiety sidestepped into the darkest corner of his room, eyes still gleaming. He didn’t wish Thomas a good night, and merely faded into the shadows, the only proof that he’d even been there pounding in Thomas’s chest like a fire alarm.


	8. I'll Let My Heart Beat At Its Own Pace

This wasn’t going well.

Thomas closed his front door, breath leaving him in a whoosh. He had just finished filming that week’s Shoutout Sunday, and had rushed home once he realized the sunset was almost over. Twilight creeped in from the outskirts of his sunny Florida city, indigo mixing with the leftover robin’s egg blue of the sky.

He headed upstairs to change, but a spark of anxiety ignited in him and forced him to check that he had locked the door three times. Before he knew it, he was checking to see if his car was locked (even though he hadn’t driven that day) and if the stove was off (even though he hadn’t cooked that day). 

“No. Nuh uh, _nope_.” He spun on his heel and marched upstairs, slamming his bedroom door like he was fighting with someone who _wasn’t_ in his head. Leaning against the door, Thomas muttered, “Cool it _down_ , Virge.”

Ever since their fight the other night, Thomas’s anxiety had been relentless. Sweaty palms, pressure in his chest, checking everything in sight—it was the worst it had been in years. He knew Virgil wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was agonizing over the divide that had grown even greater between them. Would the dust have settled if Thomas just hadn’t used Janus’s name?

Who knew.

But this was what he did know: life _sucked_ right now.

Thomas felt plugged up, like a shaken bottle of champagne. Any more fizz, and his cork was going to _pop_. Eyes drifting to his desk, a meteor of hope crashed into him as he spotted his most recent gift from a fan.

A stuffed LilyPadton.

_Patton._

God, in all of his angst, he had nearly forgotten to talk to Patton about “Recipe for Me.” That was his last chance at ending all of this peacefully. All he would have to do is summon Patton, and his father figure figment would joke around, be silly, and make Thomas feel so much better about Janus.

Patton would make him feel so much better about _everything_. 

Ditching his plans to change into pajamas and choosing to stay in his jeans, yellow collared shirt that was designed with pretty little music notes, and sneakers, Thomas wondered what Patton was up to. He hadn’t seen much of him since the last episode, though he had been popping up here and there to help with Thomas’s everyday dilemmas. 

_Probably finding more stuff from my childhood to go gaga over._ The thought made Thomas smile. So he said, striving for as much nonchalance as he could muster, “Hey, Patton?”

There was a beat, then his morality rose up next to his desk. “Hey, Tommy Salami!” he chirped, waving and planting his hands on his hips. Patton was in his usual get-up of light blue cotton shirt, khakis, and gray sweater over his shoulders. Despite his happy-go-lucky demeanor, his attitude seemed strained, his goofy grin practically plastered on his mouth. “What’s the cocoa?”

“The...cocoa?” Thomas asked, perplexed.

“Oh, shoot!” Patton snapped his fingers, disgruntled. “I meant the tea! Sorry, Thomas. I’ve been…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Out of sorts lately,” he finished. 

Thomas’s fingers found themselves in his hair, pushing it all back only for it to all flop onto his forehead—he realized it was a tick he’d picked up from Virgil. “Sorry, Pat,” he said, growing more stressed. “That’s...probably my fault.”

Patton frowned, his spine going as straight as a pole. “So, you’ve kinda got an idea,” he said. His voice was hushed, like he was sharing a secret. “How sad you’ve been.”

“Sad?”

“Thomas, you’ve been more down in the dumps lately than when you discovered dogs get uncomfortable when you hug them.”

_Yowch_. That was pretty sad. “I don’t mean to be sad,” Thomas confessed. “This week has just left me...super conflicted.”

Patton adjusted his glasses. “The ‘Recipe for Me’ thingie, huh?”

“God, did Logan tell _everyone_ about it?” Thomas sat on his bed, burying his face in his hands. 

Patton chuckled, the motion full of adoration. “You know our Logic. You tell ’im ‘loose lips sink ships’ and he’s asking how an unsecured lip would affect a fully functioning sea vessel.”

Thomas let out a tiny laugh. “Sounds like Logic, all right.” His humor evaporated, and he started to brood again. “So, you know about everything.”

“I may not _know_ about everything,” Patton replied, “but I’m gosh darn feelin’ it, that’s for sure.” His hand lifted to his heart as he sat down next to Thomas on the bed. “Your feelings feel like they were shoved in a blender, shredded on high, and topped with whipped cream to make one unhappy milkshake.”

Thomas nodded, chewing on a thumbnail. “Unhappy is right,” he said. “This is a mess, Pat.”

Patton kneaded at the sweater around his shoulders. “Logan’s been a real Sour Patch Kid in the Mind Palace,” he murmured. “Roman keeps throwing knives at a picture of a snake on a dart board and won’t turn his frown upside down. And my misunderstood shadowling...he won’t leave his room.”

At the mention of his equally-as-unhappy sides, Thomas accidentally bit down too hard on his thumb, chewing off a corner of his nail. As a drop of blood pooled out, he hissed, making a move to stand. The sudden motion made black spots clutter his vision, and he nearly buckled.

“I’ll grab ya a bandaid, kiddo. Take it easy for a sec,” Patton said worriedly, easing Thomas back onto the edge of the bed. As Thomas regained his bearings, Patton went to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom, standing on his tiptoes to swipe a bandaid and Neosporin from the cabinet.

“Pat, that’s not necessary,” Thomas insisted, fighting off the dizziness. He was being ridiculous. He had to get himself together and figure all of this out for his sides, all of whom he’d somehow managed to hurt in the span of a week. “I’ve still got a lot of stuff to do, remember? I’ve gotta help everyone—”

“Before you can help everyone else,” Patton cut him off, “you’ve gotta help yourself, champ.”

Thomas stayed still, stunned, as Patton took his hand and gently applied Neosporin. By the time Thomas was wincing, Patton had already wrapped the bandaid around the tip of his finger, the wound cleaned and protected.

“Huh,” Thomas mused. “Thanks, Nurse Patton.”

Patton giggled, putting the Neosporin away and throwing out the bandaid wrapper. “Logan and Virgil taught me a couple things about first aid a while ago.”

“Really? Why?”

“I…” Patton swallowed, hands in his khaki pants. “I felt bad about what happened after the wedding. I _still_ feel bad. Losing myself like that isn’t good for you. We’d all been kind of losing ourselves in our panic to prove to ourselves that you were doing the right thing, going to the wedding. But what Janus did for you when I went _toad_ -ally berserk...what he did for all of us...it really changed things for me.” He took a deep breath. “We gotta start putting what _you_ want first, Thomas. Not what’s best for your friends, or a random stranger—too much kindness is gonna hurt you. We have to start taking care of _you_. So that’s why,” he added, “I think Janus should get a part in the song.”

“You’re on his side,” Thomas stated, unsurprised. “You agree with him. Even...if the others don’t.”

Patton nodded, looking out of Thomas’s window. It was fully twilight now, and the crescent moon was a slice of white in the violet sea that was the sky. “I’m on his side because he’s on _your_ side,” he said. “And I’m always gonna be on your side, Thomas.”

Thomas blinked, perturbed. He had never seen Patton so somber. “Pat,” he said. “Are you okay?”

His morality removed his glasses, wiping at the corner of his eye. “It’s taken some getting used to, this whole ‘selfishness’ gig. It’s kinda scary, not gonna lie to you, kiddo. I’ve been trying to wrap _your_ head around the fact that you’re not perfect, and it’s been hard. You’re one tough cookie,” he laughed weakly. “I’ve spent thirty years building up all of these expectations, and it’s like overnight, they all went _poof!_ Gone in a flash. My life’s work has been crafting you into a good person. But lately...I don’t even know what that _is_ anymore, ya know?” 

“I can be selfish _and_ be a good person, Pat,” Thomas assured. He rested his good hand over the one with the bandaged finger, deep down knowing his words to be true. “They’re not mutually exclusive. They’re two sides of the same coin.”

Patton had gone watery, sniffling. “I know that now,” he confessed. “And Janus taught me that. We learned that from him together. So if giving him a part in ‘Recipe for Me’ makes you selfish,” he proclaimed, “then good golly Miss Dolly, Thomas, I want you to be as selfish as you want. Because Janus took care of you. That _means_ something to me...and it should to the other sides, too.”

Thomas clamored to his feet, gesturing around as he began to rant. “But why doesn’t it? They’re all so concerned with how having Janus in the group affects _them_ that they won’t admit that it could be good for _me_.”

Patton frowned down at his lap. “Maybe we’ve all been a little self _ish_ in pushing so hard for you to be self _less_ ,” he admitted. “Which is _proooooobably_ my bad. I’ve been painting a picture of perfection and inner goodness for so long, it’s gotta be hard for them to watch that picture get painted over with a new one.”

“Well, it’s _my_ picture,” Thomas declared, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m starting to get a little sick of everyone telling me what they want me to paint.”

Patton’s smile was lopsided and thoughtful. “Janus had mentioned to me that he noticed you standing up for yourself more.” 

“Tough cookie, remember?” Thomas asked, grinning.

Patton suddenly became forlorn, seemingly doing some math in his head (things had to be dire if Patton was willingly doing math). “I know Logan, technically, said yes. But Roman and Virgil still aren’t on board the S. S. Snake Side Express. What are you gonna do?”

Anxiety filtered through Thomas again, and his arms dropped to his sides, head falling backward as he sighed. “Probably what I always do.”

Patton raised an eyebrow, but his enthusiasm shone off of him. “And what’s that?”

Thomas spotted the stuffed LilyPadton again, slouched over next to a lamp. He picked it up, and gave it a squeeze for courage as he answered Patton.

“Make a _Sanders Sides_ episode.”


	9. It’s All Much More Uncertain Than I Thought It Would Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> How about that new Asides episode, huh??? It was so cute! Thankfully, it does not affect anything that's going on in this story, so I plan on everything going as planned for these final few chapters.  
> Also - PURPLE EYESHADOW!  
> Anyway, enjoy this latest chapter and thank you for reading!  
> Stay safe!  
> \- TwistingMoonbeam

Thomas turned on his camera, stepped into the spotlight, and took one, soothing breath.

_Showtime._

“Hey, what’s up, everybody?” He beamed into the camera, and his reflection in the lens was like one from a funhouse mirror. “Boy, it is nice to just _relax_ during an episode, huh? After all that insanity that was the last video, I’m happy to report things have _majorly_ settled down here in good ol’ Thomas Town.” His eyes flickered to the right, silently praying his plan would work.

_C’mon, Subterfuge Specialist. Take the bait._

“Yup,” Thomas crowed, hands on his hips. “Things have never been better! Everyone is getting along, my mental health is a-maz-ing, and self-care has been the main priority! I may have to end this episode right here right now because things are so _awesome_ —”

“Okay, I can’t take anymore of this,” Janus groaned, appearing suddenly in the corner. Thomas could practically hear the spooky music that he always edited in during Janus’s arrivals. “What’s the meaning of this, Thomas?” Janus quizzed him, immediately suspicious. “You _knew_ I’d flock to your lies like a moth to flame.” A coy smirk ensnared his lips, the air about him growing mysterious as he turned on his typical dramatic gravitas. “What, did you miss me? Not had enough of the _Lord of the Lies_ yet this week?”

“Janus!” Thomas said triumphantly. _Finally_ , a plan of his was working! It also occurred to him in that moment that it was the first time he’d uttered his deceitful side’s name on camera. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he added, attempting to play dumb. “Aren’t things spectacular right now between me and my sides?”

Janus raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Once a horrible liar, _always_ a horrible liar,” he mused. “It’s a wonder how you’ve made it this far in life without my direct interference. But, nevertheless, I see right through you, Thomas. I know what you’re trying to do, and quite frankly, I’m astounded you want to do it this way. I knew you were theatrical, but this is downright _histrionic_.”

Thomas purposely looked at the camera, imagining himself as Jim in _The Office_. “Pfft, sure, _Jan_.”

_“Okay,”_ Janus ground out, rolling his eyes. “Then I suppose you’d be grateful if I went ahead and called upon the rest of the group for you?”

“No need to be hasty!” Thomas waved his hand in front of his throat in a _shut it down_ manner. “After all, the folks at home don’t even know what we’re talking about yet!”

Janus squinted at the camera, bored. “Then go ahead and enlighten them. We can’t divert and have your videos go off-script, now can we?”

Calming himself, Thomas spoke directly to his audience—trying to gain strength from all the wonderful guys, gals, and non-binary pals that were eventually going to watch this train wreck that he was about to witness in real time. “So, as all of you know, Janus is a part of the team now,” he said delicately. “And he made an excellent point to me last week in stating that as a part of the group, he deserves a verse in the song Joan wrote, ‘Recipe for Me.’ And I agree with him. But as you all also know,” he added, scratching the back of his neck. “Things are not so Gucci between Janus and some of the other sides. So...we’re gonna solve that. Right now.”

Janus sighed, massaging the space between his eyebrows. “Well, at least the drama will be good for views,” he mumbled. “Hollywood, here we come.”

“So, how about it, my dudes?” Thomas called, trying for an easygoing smile, even though his heart was racing. “How about everyone comes out to play?”

He was stupefied when no one came.

Thomas’s shoulders sagged. “Huh. That...normally works.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Janus flicked both wrists upward, and then all four of Thomas’s Light Sides were summoned.

There were resounding yelps (and one cuss word) as the sides arrived. Logan frowned at Janus, fixing his glasses and remarking that the assertiveness was unnecessary. Roman rubbed the back of his head and raked his hair back, glowering at the deceitful side. Patton gave Thomas a silent thumbs up, seemingly unaffected by the abrupt summoning.

But Virgil (who had, of course, supplied the cuss word) leaned back and hissed at Janus so venomously that Thomas was afraid he was about to dive in for the kill.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Virgil growled, his entire body tense. “Thomas, what is he doing here? Why are you _alone_ with him? Did you summon him first before the rest of us?”

“Ah, because there’s _definitely_ a way to know for sure, considering you all disregarded Thomas’s summoning at first and weren’t even here to see,” Janus retorted, hissing back at Virgil like a quivering rattlesnake.

“Thomas, you summoned him first?” Roman demanded, mouth shaped in a perfect “O.” “For a _Sanders Sides_ episode? Is _nothing_ sacred around here?”

“On the contrary, Roman,” Logan said, sending a freezing cold look Thomas’s way. “It appears Thomas has made it very clear what is ‘sacred’ around here.”

“Alright, I get that everyone is a bit...peeved,” Thomas permitted, eying the camera, as if sending an _SOS—Save Our Sanders_. A headache was beginning to bulge behind his eyes. “But that’s why I’ve summoned you all here. I’ve talked to all of you individually, and now I want to discuss this as a group. _Civilly_.”

“Ugh, what, the song thing again?” Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, hair falling into his face as he glared at Janus. “What’s your endgame here? Earn more of Thomas’s misplaced trust by getting a few lines in a song? I know you’re up to something, and I want to know what it is.”

“I’m sure you do,” Janus said breezily, examining his nails. “But if you expect me to go spouting my evil plan to you all, well…” His grin was malicious. “Then I’m not the kind of villain you think I am.”

As Virgil stiffened, Roman shouted, “Don’t you see, Thomas? He _just_ conceded to being a villain!”

“I did no such thing!” Janus said, hand to his chest in faux offense.

Thomas frowned. “Well, Janus, you kind of did just admit to—”

“ _Dadadada_ THOMAS, for all of your information,” Janus cut in quickly, “has pledged his allegiance to me in private! He’s too much of a gentleman to break it to you all openly, but _I_ certainly am not. What were your exact words, Thomas?” he asked smugly. “‘I accept you, Janus, and they’re just going to have to deal with it’?”

Logan’s brows shot up. Roman gasped, hand cupping his mouth. Virgil’s glare rotated toward Thomas.

Now it was Thomas’s turn to hiss. _“Janus!”_

“Is that true?” Roman pressed. He adjusted his cufflinks, peering at Thomas in betrayal. “Thomas, tell me that’s not true.”

Thomas heaved a sigh, rubbing at his temples. “Yes, it’s true, I said that,” he told the group. “And I _said that_ because I mean it. I want Janus to be an official member of the team. And incorporating him into ‘Recipe for Me’ is the perfect way to reflect that!”

Virgil let out a bitter laugh. “Thomas, writing a part for him in a song isn’t gonna do anything. You could write him all of the songs in the world, but it won’t change the fact that he’s _bad_ for you! He’s gonna end up destroying you!”

“Sure, that’s my goal here,” Janus quipped. “Destroy the individual of whose personality I am a facet. Yes, _complete and total annihilation_. Sounds about right.”

_“What I would like,”_ Thomas interrupted firmly, “is for everyone, one-by-one, to give me their answer and an explanation. _Without_ using insults or being mean. Pat, can you start us off, please?”

Patton initially hung back, intimidated by the heated gazes of the other Light Sides. But when he saw how desperate Thomas was, a determined look overtook his face and he stood his ground. “I understand,” he said, “that we’ve all got an axe to grind when it comes to Janus—”

“ _You_ know his name, too?” Virgil wailed. “Am I the only one who apparently missed out on this life-changing revelation?”

“On the contrary, Virgil, Deceit’s name is a new tidbit to me, as well,” Logan said. He drummed his fingers against the wall, his stance closed off as he assessed the group with analyzing eyes. “It appears that, once again, Thomas’s brain is discovering crucial information last.”

“But he’s helped Thomas a lot!” Patton continued. “Roman, you were there!” he added, turning on the creative side. “When I was a frog monster and too in- _ribbet_ ed to help Thomas, Janus helped him! He taught us that it’s _okay_ to be selfish! Healthy, even! If he hadn’t stepped in…” Patton shivered, hugging himself. “I don’t know what would have happened to us.”

“When you were a _what_?” Virgil asked, making a face.

“...I will relinquish that Deceit helped our handsome hopper over here,” Roman said, throwing a thumb toward Patton. “But how do we know he wasn’t doing it for his own personal gain? This just brings us back to square one. _Why_ he did it may be more important than _what_ he did. And _why_ he did it,” he finished, his side-eye sending daggers Janus’s way, “is to get Thomas on his side.”

“But what’s wrong with being on his side?” Patton questioned, frowning. “If Thomas is on his side, and we’re on Thomas’s side, then shouldn’t we be on Janus’s side? Yeesh, now the word ‘side’ sounds funny when I say it out loud.”

“Being on _his_ side,” Roman claimed brazenly, “will make Thomas a selfish and deceiving person! Employing underhanded tactics just to get what he wants. Ignoring his inherent moral code and relying on lies. It’s…! It goes against everything we stand for!”

“Roman,” Patton said, dismayed. “What we _stand for_ is Thomas. He’s not asking us to let Janus be the President of the United States of Thomas. He...just wants Janus to join the party! And for us to hear him out. His point of view is valid.”

“More like _vapid_.” Virgil stared at Patton like his father figment was a stranger. “I can’t believe you’re agreeing with him, of all people, Pat. I thought you _cared_ about Thomas!”

Patton pursed his lips, as if holding back tears. “I _do_ care about Thomas,” he said quietly. “Which is why I’m willing to let in sides that scare me. Because I know, at the end of the day, how I feel about them doesn’t matter. It’s how much they can help Thomas that matters. Why do you think I let you in, Virgil?”

Virgil recoiled, taking a seat on the steps. 

“When you first started showing up for _Sanders Sides_ episodes,” Patton reminisced with fondness, “I’ll admit, it scared me to see a side with such a strong hold on Thomas’s emotions. You were a dark and stormy night that was jeopardizing the sunny summer day I’d created for him. But...the more we got to know you, the more I saw how much you help Thomas. So it was a no-brainer to me that you should be a member of the family. I’ve gotten to know Janus, and I see now how he helps Thomas. So why can’t _he_ be a member of the family?”

The group was left in dumbstruck silence. Thomas knew he was going to have to edit out some of it later, but hopefully the audience would be able to feel the tension in the room from the other side of their computer screens. This was the kind of drama that he couldn’t fake with editing software or background music.

All the while, Janus was watching, as if trying to guess what would happen next.

Finally, Virgil pulled up his hood to hide, the twist of his scowl the only part of his expression visible.“He can be a member of your family,” he spit. “But he’s not a member of mine.”

“Virgil!” Patton gawked. Logan, Roman, and Thomas all reacted similarly, but Janus just narrowed his eyes, scales glistening like a newly unsheathed blade.

“I’m going to lay this out for you all simply, so that there’s no misunderstanding.” His voice was as aged and smooth as the secret bottle of red wine Thomas kept in his fridge for special occasions. “Normally, I’d prefer not to be involved every time the inclination for deception arises. Otherwise, I’d be with Thomas from sunrise to sundown. But after the disaster that was Thomas post-wedding, I wanted to make a point in being there for him whenever I was needed. Continue to prove myself, I suppose. But my purpose does not singularly lie with making Thomas deceive others. I shield him from truths he’s not ready for. I work hard to ensure he’s discovering things when he’s meant to. At first, I thought perhaps it had been a mistake to reveal myself when I did…” He laughed softly. “But I feel the truth within him. He has accepted me, fully and unconditionally. He’s not running from it anymore. So like it or not,” he finished, becoming angry and passionate, “I’m not going anywhere. Because when you fail to include an ingredient from the recipe, you ruin the dish you were trying to make. And I will _not_ allow you to ruin Thomas.”

“Who said we were trying to ruin Thomas?” Roman cried, balling his fists. “We’re trying to help him!”

“You want to help?” Janus’s smile was more of a snarl. “Then stay out of my way, _Princey_.”

“Hey!” Virgil jumped up, bearing his teeth as his Tempest Tongue colored his words. “Only _I_ get to call him Princey, Monty Python. So _back off_.”

“Ah, yes, back to the silly nicknames.” Janus simpered at Virgil. “Surely we’re assisting Thomas by standing around and acting like children. What’s next, Anxiety, are you going to push me off the swing?”

“Guys, please.” Thomas winced, the thumping of his headache magnified by the fighting. “This isn’t helping.”

Logan seemed to notice Thomas’s wince and said urgently, “I agree with Thomas. This much disarray is unproductive. We must now work toward a solution, rather than squabbling.”

“Thank you for the note, Logan,” Janus drawled, clapping. “A poignant thing to say! If only the others were listening. Not that it bothers you, right? Since, y’know, you don’t feel anything.”

“Janus,” Thomas snapped. His deceitful side’s sleaziness was starting to bug him. The headache wasn’t helping, either. “Knock it off. How are they supposed to accept you into the group if you’re sneaking in comments like that?”

Janus blinked, flabbergasted. Virgil stifled a snicker.

_“All I’m saying is,”_ Logan went on, shooting Janus an exasperated look, “if all you want to do all day is argue, then by all means, argue. But I’m here to provide Thomas with logical tools for problem solving. Tools I’m certain you’re all going to ignore, but tools, nonetheless.”

“Then what’s the solution, Logan?” Roman asked. “Rather than _being_ tools, I want to _use_ tools. What should we do?”

Logan straightened his tie, his expression stern. “We all share the same goal,” he said. “We want success and health for Thomas as he navigates adult life. Conflict is inevitable. But multiple perspectives should be represented. I typically contradict a lot of Janus’s schemes, and while I don’t appreciate being forcibly removed from the situation through a shepherd’s hook,” he complained, and Janus wiggled his fingers good-naturedly in greeting, “I have to yield to his point. Self-care requires listening to oneself, and we have not been listening to Thomas. The most logical solution is to accept Janus, give him his part in the song, and heed his advice moving forward.”

“WHAT?” Virgil and Roman yelled.

“Please, Logic, you’re making me blush,” Janus teased.

“See, guys? This doesn’t have to be complicated. You don’t have to like each other, but I need you to get along. For my sake,” Thomas explained weakly.

“Forget it,” Virgil snapped. “You couldn’t _pay_ me to accept this snake. Him being here just tells me that Thomas is on the wrong path. That he’s being lied to, and he’s falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.”

“I wouldn’t _be here_ if Thomas wasn’t telling the truth!” Janus suddenly erupted, nostrils flaring. “My presence here, before you all, _is_ truth! This is a part of who he is!” He gestured to the scales that checkered down the side of his face. “And the more you reject that, the more you will hurt him! The more you will hurt _me_!”

Janus’s outburst caused a cacophony of responses. Virgil and Roman were shouting, Janus was viciously firing back, and Logan and Patton were trying to subdue the arguing. Thomas felt his headache triple in size, and he moaned, holding his ears. Everything was too loud, too bright, too _much_. It had all become too much. The issues, the back-and-forth, the fighting. He was tearing himself apart.

But when he glanced up, no one had noticed how much pain he was in.

Fury thundered within him. There he was, upset and in agony, his head feeling like it was about to explode, and no one had any idea of how he was doing. 

All they talked about was how much they cared about him. How they knew what was best for him. Yet they had done nothing but bring out the worst in him.

Maybe this was a problem he had to solve on his own.

“That’s _it_!” Thomas shrieked. “Get OUT!” 

The fighting came to a halt, and five pairs of eyes were on him.

“‘Get out’?” Roman reiterated. “Thomas, whatever do you mean?”

“I said what I said,” Thomas huffed, dropping to his knees. “This isn’t working. _Nothing_ about this has been working. You guys keep talking about what’s best for me. But that’s not what it’s been about. It’s been about what’s best for all of _you_. And I can’t take it anymore.”

“Thomas,” Logan tried to reassure him, panicky for the first time since their trip to Virgil’s room. “I understand that this episode has collapsed into chaos. But it may not be best for you to tackle anything on your own. You’re vulnerable.”

“Maybe I have to be vulnerable for a while,” Thomas whispered. “Because being strong isn’t working anymore.”

“Thomas. Thomas, please.” Janus captured his gaze, worry etched into his face. “We can forget the song. We can take a break and try discussing this another day. But you don’t look good. Have you eaten yet today? How much sleep did you get last night?”

Thomas didn’t answer. Instead, he murmured, “I want to be alone.”

“But—but Thomas,” Patton stammered. “You never want to be alone.”

“When I’m at war with myself to this much of a degree,” Thomas stated clearly, “I may as well be alone. Please, guys. Just...just leave me alone for the rest of the day. This isn’t working anymore. I’ll call on you when I’m ready to talk again.”

Exchanging concerned looks, the sides left him there in the middle of his living room, one-by-one encouraging him to summon them if he needed help. And before he knew it, his wish had been granted, and finally, things had gone his way.

He was alone.

Lethargic, Thomas gazed up into the lens of the camera. It was still rolling, and had recorded the entire conversation.

His misshapen reflection was still there, showing him how he truly felt.

Without another word, Thomas rose from his knees, went to the camera, and switched it off. 

He’d certainly gotten an earful of what everyone else was thinking.

Now it was time to start thinking for himself.


	10. Now I See There’s No Wrong Way to Be Me

For two days, Thomas didn’t see his sides.

It was eerie, not having them around. He was so used to being caught off guard by them that Logan not rising up when he was doing the math for his weekly grocery shopping budget, or Roman not squealing in delight at his shoulder when the adorable cashier at the grocery store winked at him during checkout was just weird. No Virgil grumbling in his ear when he accidentally knocked over a row of cereal boxes while navigating the aisles and received stares from his fellow shoppers, and no disagreement breaking out between Patton and Remus when he picked up a bag of frozen chicken fingers only to think of them as breaded _human_ fingers.

Certainly no Janus rolling his eyes at all of them while he allowed his glass of Merlot to oxidize with a few twirls of his wrist.

Legit: it was _weird_.

But ultimately, Thomas knew this step back he was taking was for the best. He felt bad for kicking them all out a few days ago, but they’d been driving him nuts and he needed space. Granted, saying he needed space from _himself_ seemed backwards, but in this case, it was the best thing he could do right now.

Once he’d dragged in the last of his groceries, Thomas slapped his wallet down on the counter, stretching. He’d somehow gotten an early start on his list of tasks for the day, having already worked out with his trainer, showered, and shopped for his groceries for the upcoming week. Since it was late morning and he’d only had a banana that morning, he decided he would make a nice lunch and chill on the couch before he started working.

Thomas turned on his camera, intending to vlog a little to have extra B-roll for the newest _Sanders Sides_ episode (if he could ever get them all in one room again...). He went to walk into the kitchen, but a tiny bit of anxiety twinged in him, forcing him back to the entrance of his home.

The anxiety was almost gentle, like it was afraid to bother him. But it was still there, urging him to double check he’d locked his front door. Thomas smiled softly and put his hands on the lock, head bowed.

“All good, Virge,” Thomas said aloud. “No worries.”

He practically heard the snort in his head.

_Easy for you to say._

Thomas had to give credit to his sides for having the willpower to stay away for as long as they had. He was glad they were respecting his wish for solitude in the wake of all of the calamity the other day, though he could feel how uneasy they were. 

_I just need time._ He willed the words to his sides, like sending a message in a bottle. He needed time just to think. Time to truly figure out what he wanted out of all of this. 

Time to figure out his next move.

Thomas walked into his kitchen, beginning to make himself lunch.

_What is my next move?_

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Later that night, Thomas scrolled through Tik Tok while in bed, restless.

He’d already called it a night, heading to bed way earlier than he usually would, but he knew he needed the sleep, as well as to fix his screwed up sleep schedule. But while he was tired, he was also alert, something bugging him.

Well, _six_ somethings bugging him.

Thomas was torn on how to amend such an intricate issue. How do you convince parts of yourself that another part of yourself was good for you? It was like he was pleading his case to a jury.

_Ugh. No more courtroom scenarios, please._

Getting out of bed, Thomas slunk into his bathroom, splashing his face with cold water. He sighed, raising his head to see his reflection in the mirror. 

When he took a good, hard look, he saw all of his sides in his reflection. Logan in the quirk of his brow, Patton in the wrinkle of his nose, Roman in his slight, natural smile. Good, wholesome traits. Traits that showed that he was a normal, trustworthy person.

But no matter what, he also saw Virgil in the gritting of his teeth. Remus in the other half of his smile that he sometimes spotted curving into a smirk (and in the beginnings of facial hair above his lip he’d forgotten to shave that morning, he supposed). Janus in the confident, self-adoring shimmer of his eyes. Negative, flawed traits. Traits he’d wasted so much of his life ignoring.

But at the end of the day, they were still _his_ traits. Parts of him he would be wrong to keep ignoring. Parts of him he’d have to fully accept.

Ingredients to the recipe.

Thomas straightened up, narrowing his eyes. He knew what he had to do.

The prospect of sleep banished, Thomas sat down at his desk and flicked on a lamp. Turning on his laptop, he opened a blank Word document, staring at it before nodding to himself and adding a title at the top.

After spending _way_ too much time selecting a font, Thomas tapped his knuckles on his desk to the beat as he hummed a very familiar song to himself, typing the night away.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

“Okay,” Thomas said. “You guys can come out now.”

He was seated on his couch, holding the paper in his hand lightly as to not wet it with his sweaty palms. He waited patiently as each side began to slowly arrive, standing in their usual spots around the living room. 

“Thomas!” Patton cried with joy. He happy-danced in front of the blinds, fingers intertwined in front of him as he beamed. “How are you? I’m so glad to see you! Are you okay? We were getting worried after Day Three—”

“FINALLY,” Roman shouted, rising up dressed in rags with a fake Gandalf beard clipped to his chin. “Thomas, it’s been _ages_! I was starting to lose count of the years! By the mitts of the Minotaur, _what took you so long_?”

“Dude,” Virgil deadpanned from the stairs. “It’s been three days.”

“Well, my tally marks on the wall would disagree,” Roman retorted, ripping off the fake beard. “It feels like it’s been an eternity!”

“Technically, it’s been three days, two hours, thirteen minutes, and eight seconds,” Logan clarified, rising up next to the stairs. “Nine seconds, ten seconds, eleven seconds—”

“Thank you, Logan, for the timekeeping,” Janus intercepted, appearing next to Patton. He grimaced, adding, “Er, sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off.”

Logan blinked, seemingly pleased with the apology.

“Hey, guys.” Thomas itched the back of his neck, gaze glued to the floor. “I’m really sorry for freaking out the other day. That was very... _uncool_ of me. And I should know. I’m surrounded by some very cool sides that haven’t gotten the appreciation they deserve.” Logan shot him a subtle, knowing smile at that. “So I’ve gathered you all here because we have a _Sanders Sides_ episode that needs an ending.” He gestured absently to the camera set up on the tripod in the middle of the living room. “And I’ve got some stuff I’ve gotta say.”

Patton started to speak, reassuring Thomas that he had nothing to apologize for, but Thomas held up a hand to stop him. Surely, Virgil felt how nervous Thomas was. Maybe they all did.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Thomas confessed, fidgeting. “And I think my problem is that there isn’t a way for me to tell you about why I want Janus on the team. So...I’m going to have to show you, instead.”

He pulled out his red ukulele, the sides watching in awe. He wiggled his fingers in preparation for his performance, the action also precipitated by his sudden onslaught of stage fright. He was literally playing a song in front of parts of _himself_. He had to pull it together.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas told the sides, “This takes place between Virgil and Patton’s parts. So...keep that in mind.”

Then he opened his mouth and sang.

 _“And even though_  
_There’s darker places to go_  
_Parts of me I used to hide_  
_Now I’ve learned to honestly abide_  
_To dark not meaning a bad side_

 _Self-love isn’t selfish,_  
_Self-care is a self-wish_  
_There’s no shame in taking a break_  
_I’ll do it for my own sake_  
_Shed my second skin just like a snake_

 _It’s a needed ingredient_  
_I just can’t be lenient_  
_To a recipe I’ve always had_  
_I’ll change my thinking just a tad_  
_’Specially when I say, ‘Who’s good or bad?’”_

Thomas sang the rest of “Recipe for Me,” hoping to give them context on when this new addition would show up. As he hummed the final verse, he went slack, afraid to see their reactions.

“Um, so that’s Janus’s part,” he said, sheepish. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Taking a chance, he peeked upwards to see the sides. If he wasn’t so apprehensive, Thomas would have found their reactions hilarious. Roman’s jaw was cartoonishly dropped, Virgil’s scowl was wavering, Logan was nodding along, and Patton’s smile was bigger and brighter than the sun. 

But Janus’s reaction was the best of all. His eyes were huge, every hint of sarcasm and trickiness washed from his face. Even with the scales, Janus suddenly looked younger, like a child who’d just seen Santa for the first time on Christmas.

“I get that you don’t trust him,” Thomas murmured, hand placed solemnly on his heart. “I didn’t, either. But then he showed me that he wants to help and that he’s always gonna be there for me. He’s done bad things, but he’s a good side of me. And I trust him. So I hope this new verse shows you that.”

Janus fumbled as he tried to smooth out his clothes, bumping his hat and wincing. He was shaking, trying hopelessly to come off as his usual slick self, but Thomas’s addition to “Recipe for Me” had clearly affected him.

“Thomas—” Janus’s voice caught. “Thomas, I, uh…”

“Huh.” Virgil smirked slightly at Janus. “For the first time ever, the snake is speechless.”

“Thomas,” Roman proclaimed, stars in his eyes. “That was...that was... _amazing_. I mean, I’m typically not one for new versions of your work, but it adds so much dimension to the original song! To divulge deeper into your psyche, reveal a faction of yourself unknown to most, indulge in your complexities…” He rubbed his hands together, the potential of the new verse practically making him vibrate. “Dare I say it, this could be a fantastic new project to work on!”

“R-really?” Thomas asked, the disbelief flooring him.

“It’s beautiful, Thomas!” Patton agreed. “It makes the song... _complete_! And we’d had no idea it was missing something in the first place!”

Roman regarded Janus, sincerity in every word as he professed, “As the side of Thomas that fights for his happiness every day, I must say I can’t remember the last time I saw Thomas fight for something as hard as he’s fought for you. Your presence clearly is igniting Thomas’s creative fire, and for that, I respect you. And I will _begrudgingly_ accept you into the group. He clearly sees something in you, and...who am I to doubt Thomas now, when I’ve never had a reason to do so before?”

“Y-you mean it, Ro?” Thomas stuttered.

“A prince always means what he says!” Roman brought his hands together, fighting back a regretful frown. “I may not trust him, Thomas, but I trust you. So I’m willing to allow him into the group if you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Roman…” Thomas wanted to run over and envelope his creative side in a hug. “And _that_ ,” he said excitedly, “is exactly why you’re my hero.”

Roman beamed before pointing at Janus and speaking with a warning tone. “But hear me, Snake Johnson. No funny business. The second you propose Thomas do something _really_ bad, we will have words. Quiche?”

“I believe you mean _capeesh_ , Roman,” Logan corrected, facepalming.

“How about you, Logan?” Thomas wrung his hands. “I owe you an apology for the way I’ve been treating you lately, and I would understand if you didn’t want to offer me advice anymore, and I know my music isn’t really your thing, but...your opinion is really important to me.”

Pale pink bloomed on Logan’s cheeks, and he tried to hide it behind clearing his throat. “That’s, ah, very generous of you, Thomas. I appreciate being heard and acknowledged. And quite frankly, I would say that you”—he flipped through his flash cards and held one up with a lopsided smile—“ _slayed_ it. Though, why a word related to slaughter is commonly used for complimentary phrases, I do not know.”

Thomas’s widening grin shriveled when he looked at Virgil. His anxiety wasn’t moving a muscle, glare directed away from them, his lips pursed.

“Virge?” Thomas prompted.

Virgil heaved a sigh that he forced out through his nose. His gaze swung toward Thomas, serious and spellbound at the same time. “You’re sure about this?” he implored. “There’s still a lot you don’t know, Thomas. A lot you won’t get to know for a long time. He’s dangerous. I won’t fight you on this anymore, but I need to know. You’re _sure_?”

Thomas gave a single nod.

Virgil groaned, scratching at his hair. “And you really think he’ll be able to help you if he’s a part of...this? It’ll be good for you?”

Thomas smiled slightly, patting the ukulele. “I think you would have been impressed with him if you had been at the last episode, Virge. It’s definitely nice to have Janus around during a final boss battle, that’s for sure. He reminded me of you, in that moment. He was ready to protect me from anything.”

Virgil’s dark stare zoomed in on Janus, his tone sharp when he asked, “You protected him?”

Janus realized Virgil was talking to him and lifted his chin, arms behind his back. “I did my best,” he said tersely. “But at the end of the day, he’s going to need his anxiety if he wants the job done right.”

Virgil and Janus held each other’s gazes for a few seconds, then Virgil nodded, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. “Fine. You can sit with us. For now.” He paused, then added gruffly, “On Wednesdays, we wear pink.”

Janus’s following guffaw was lighter than Thomas had ever heard it, unburdened and maybe even legitimately happy. 

“A _Mean Girls_ reference from _Virgil_?” Roman was elated. “ _That’s_ what we should watch at the next movie night! Patton and I can make everyone pink skirts to go over our onesies—”

“And I can make _Mean Girls_ -themed cookies!” Patton trilled.

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m accepted and whatever,” Janus moaned, but he couldn’t conceal his smirk. “Only as long as I can supply the pink Moscato.”

Once a date and time had been decided on for movie night, the sides left, each telling Thomas to have a good rest of his day and doing their own special thing to make him feel better. Patton gave him a big bear hug, whispering “Good job, kiddo” and patting him on the back. Roman put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder, his hold strong and motivating. Logan gave him one curt nod, his smile comforting as he commended Thomas for his improved problem solving skills. And Virgil shared a long, meaningful look with both Thomas and Janus before doing his two-finger salute to Thomas and leaving.

Thomas was left alone with Janus.

“Sooooo,” Thomas drawled. “That went pretty well, eh?”

Janus’s snake side practically had sparkles floating around it, instead of being shrouded in shadow. His body language was more relaxed, and he was almost in a daze, squinting at Thomas as if he was in a dream.

“Very well,” he confirmed faintly. “Very well, indeed. Thomas.” He struggled to form a sentence, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. “That was...that was...I never actually thought…”

“Janus, you’re welcome,” Thomas said, amused. “See you at movie night?”

Reality seemed to sink in, and Janus chuckled, at ease in a way Thomas had never seen before. 

“I _won’t_ see you at movie night. Thank you, Thomas. Seriously,” he added suddenly, how grateful he was shining from every inch of him. He was still mysterious to Thomas, still his crafty and sly self who was always working on the next scheme, but now he was more genuine to Thomas, less of this crazy character and more of a fleshed out part of him. 

Just another essential ingredient. 

“Get out of here before I start bawling, you evil snake boy,” Thomas laughed.

“Ah, ah, ah! Just a snake boy, remember?” With one last grin, Janus sunk out, saluting Thomas with a dip of his hat as he left.

Alone, Thomas sat quietly for a moment, hands still around the ukulele. He eyed the camera, releasing an exhausted, but happy, laugh as he leaned backward into the couch, smiling.

For the first time in a long time, he felt complete. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading thus far! We've got one more chapter before this story is all wrapped up! I just wanted to add a note to specify how to hear the lyrics for Janus's part. I've always imagined in the same melody as Virgil's section in "Recipe for Me," so I hope that helps when reading it in the same vein as the original song.  
> Thank you and see you next time for the last chapter!!! :)  
> \- TwistingMoonbeam


	11. I'm Changing All the Time

“So, I gotta say,” Joan said on the other end of the phone, “this was a _great_ idea, dude.”

Thomas closed the refrigerator door with his foot as he cracked open a soda. “Right? I can’t believe we didn't think of this sooner! And it came out amazing. I can’t remember a shoot being so fun.”

Thomas switched the phone to his other ear, mind wandering back to the shoot they’d done for “Recipe for Me.” After he’d had a meeting with the team to explain his idea and everyone was on board, production had started almost immediately. In just a couple weeks, Thomas had recorded the song, overseen pre-production, filmed and edited a music video, and released it on his YouTube channel to overwhelmingly positive reviews. In five days, it had already reached one million views! 

“That shoot was _hilarious_ ,” Joan replied, their voice hitching with laughter. “We could barely contain ourselves while we were filming. I get that Janus is supposed to be dramatic, but _jeez_.”

For the music video, Quil had rented out a fancy dining room for the team to film in, and it’d had Janus written all over it. The walls had been plastered with elegant red wallpaper, the floorboards made of the shiniest cherrywood he’d ever seen. And the pièce de résistance had been the gorgeous black piano in the middle of the room, the star at the center of this extravagant universe.

 _So_ Janus.

To match the slower mood of Janus’s part in the song, Thomas had even gotten to _play_ the piano, singing along with the recording they played as they filmed the music video. He’d gotten to wear his new burgundy leather jacket, feeling rich and classy as he sang his lungs out about the newly accepted side.

Once the video had been edited, it was even more beautiful than Thomas could have imagined. A glassy, opaque effect had been added in post-production, making the flicker of the candlelight, the glint of the piano, and the lilt of Thomas’s singing have a dream-like quality. 

The fanders had _adored_ it.

And so did Thomas.

“What can I say?” Thomas teased. “The side’s got _style_.”

Joan snorted. “Enough style to have us film on location. But seriously, it was awesome. I hope Janus is happy with the final product.”

Thomas’s eyes darted to the left, where Janus was standing in front of the blinds in his living room, smirking. Joan was obviously joking, but they had no idea how right they were.

“I have a feeling,” Thomas said, “that he’s very happy.”

After chatting for a few more minutes, Joan hung up, and Thomas raised his eyebrows at Janus, asking a silent question.

 _“Yes,”_ Janus said, peering at him shrewdly. “Janus is _very_ happy.”

“I would say _all_ of Thomas is happy!” Roman joined in, rising up in front of the TV. “Thomas, I don’t want to toot my own horn here, but I mean come on— _toot toot_ , baby! That music video was _flawless_!”

“Everything was so shiny!” Patton agreed, appearing next to Janus with a tray of pink and purple colored sugar cookies. “And that piano sure had the _key_ to Roman’s heart, I’ve gotta say. By the way, amigos, am I wearing the right shade of pink?” He tugged at the bottom of his pink button-up, showcasing it to the group.

“Pat, there is no _wrong_ shade of pink,” Roman gasped, gesturing down to his pink-adorned prince costume. “There is just _pink_ and it is _perfect_.”

“And _that’s_ where we’re gonna disagree, Prince _Alarming_ ,” Virgil cut in, sulking on the steps. His hoodie now had pink patches across it, rather than its usual purple.

“Aw, Virgil! I’m so happy you decided to participate in our theme tonight!” Patton said, hands clasped together on one side of his face.

“I didn't,” Virgil deadpanned. “Roman dyed my hoodie and I don’t have anything else to wear.”

“No skirts?” Thomas asked.

“I decided just slightly tweaking our normal outfits would be more fabulous. And it’s a simple conjuring,” Roman reassured Virgil with a careless wave of his hand. “Just for tonight, Wail-y Williams.”

Virgil rolled his eyes just as Logan rose up next to him by the stairs. His tie was pink, and his arms were folded over his chest as he examined them coolly (Patton oohing and ahhing over him all the while). 

“I’m confused,” Logan told them, frowning. “It’s not Wednesday. Why are we doing this tonight?”

“Because Thomas has to edit for the next four weeks!” Roman exclaimed. “That _Sanders Sides_ episode isn’t gonna finish itself.”

“Ah, of course. Well, I, for one, am eager to dissect the psychological metaphors and motifs presented in _Mean Girls_ ,” Logan told them. “Though I may notice some errors upon an eleventh viewing.”

“I’ve seen _Mean Girls_ ten times?” Thomas asked. 

“You find it on TV a lot,” Logan explained. “While, what’s the term? Ah, _channel surfing_.”

“And it’s a classic,” Roman added. “You all better prepare yourselves for the pink puns tonight. Patton and I are going to be relentless.”

“I guess now would be the time to let you guys down...ma- _genta_ -ly—I am sorry,” he apologized immediately as everyone but Roman groaned. “Not my best, I know.” 

“So, the music video is a smash?” Roman asked, beaming. 

“Sure is!” Thomas placed a bag of popcorn in the microwave, the sound of popping filling the kitchen. “It’s reached a million views before most of our videos reach five hundred thousand. It’s a huge success.”

“Yup,” Roman sighed, stretching his arms back and sighing. “Just another day’s work for your creativity.”

“So, you all liked it?” Thomas asked the group, retrieving the popcorn from the microwave and pouring it into a bowl.

“It was _incredible_!” Patton gushed, fists under his chin as he beamed. “That was such a pretty room! And it’s making everyone so happy to see Janus get a section in the song. That’s what matters most, right?” 

“And it _was_ the next logical step.” Logan cleaned his glasses with a blue handkerchief decorated with his brain emblem. “Providing more Janus-related content in conjunction with the previous and next _Sanders Sides_ episodes provides consistency to the main storyline, establishing a fruitful plot for the viewers to enjoy. And high quality episodes will lead to more subscribers, more success for the channel, and more income to supply food and shelter for Thomas. So, in summary, it was most satisfactory.”

Thomas shook a bag of M&Ms into the bowl of popcorn, giving Virgil a pointed look. “Virge?”

Virgil shrugged, appraising the pink in his hoodie like he was becoming more okay with it. “The piano was cool.” 

And for now, maybe that was good enough.

“So, with that accomplished,” Thomas sang, walking into the living room and getting comfy on the couch, “it’s time for a well-deserved break. _Movie night!_ ”

Patton and Roman squealed, climbing over each other to their seats. Logan calmly sat on the far end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other and conjuring a notebook, prepared to take notes on the film. Virgil hoisted himself to the top of the couch, perching like a cat as Thomas found the movie on Netflix. 

Janus strayed off to the side, unsure. He stood next to Logan, like a new student on their first day of school who didn’t know anyone in class.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “C’mere, Snake Lively, there’s room between me and Logan.”

Tentative, Janus slowly approached the couch, sitting on the edge of the seat. There was a pause, then he asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to start the movie?”

“Well, I _wooould_ ,” Thomas drawled. “But someone here isn’t wearing pink yet!”

Janus noticed the pink T-shirt decorated with tiny black hearts Thomas was wearing, and the pink worn by the other sides. All eyes on him, Janus sighed and waved his hand, and all of the yellow in his outfit was replaced with a shade of hot pink. 

_"That’s_ what I’m talking about!” Thomas cried as Roman and Patton cheered.

Janus huffed, almost bashful as he pulled his cloak closer around his neck. “I’m _not_ just trying to blend in,” he muttered. 

Virgil watched the scene, lower lip jutting out. “No use trying to disguise yourself, dude,” he said. “You fit in just the way you are. You...belong, I guess.”

The words sunk in, everyone surprised by Virgil’s extended olive branch, but no one as surprised as Janus. He held Virgil’s gaze, the coldness between them thawing the slightest bit as he nodded, the edges of his lips turning up.

“As do you, Virgil. As we _all_ do.”

Virgil nodded back, eyes switching back to the TV. “Besides, you may as well start putting your energy into blending in. Your disguises have been sucking lately.”

Janus spluttered, trying in vain to form a response, as Patton and Roman went, _“Oooooooh!”_

“Alright, alright, simmer down.” Thomas got up to flick the lights off and plopped back down on the couch. “Movie time!”

Janus and Virgil grumbled next to him, but for the first time, he could tell it was good-natured. There wasn’t as much malice between the two sides now as much as it was just exasperation. Not necessarily getting along, but certainly not at each other’s throats, either.

For now, it was definitely good enough.

The movie started to play, and everything seemed to finally settle for Thomas and his sides. They passed around the bowl of popcorn and Patton’s cookies, each side conjuring a drink to enjoy (hot cocoa for Patton, coffee for Logan, tea for Virgil, apple cider for Roman, and a glass of Pink Moscato for Janus) while Thomas sipped on his soda. When the popcorn got back to Thomas, it was the part of the film when Cady met Aaron Samuels in math class. As Thomas went to reach in for a handful, an eerie, nasally voice whispered in his ear.

_“I’d like to show Aaron how MY limit doesn’t exist in bed, eh, Thomas?”_

Thomas yelped, jerking the bowl and making popcorn and candy fly everywhere. 

“Remus!”

Logan flipped the lights back on, and the room was injected with Remus’s cackling. He was “in the buff” again, leaning over the top of the couch between Logan and Janus’s seats as he watched the movie. “I mean, come _on_ , Thomas!” he insisted. “I know you would push someone in front of a bus too to get to burn _that_ book.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

As Thomas buried his face in his hands to hide the rosiness spreading across his cheeks, Roman retorted from his spot in the armchair, “Remus, we made a deal! You can come to movie night if you zip it with the intrusive thoughts!”

Remus snickered. “As much as I do love to _intrude_ , I’m actually here because I’ve got beef with Tommy boy.” He turned his head toward Thomas, a manic twinkle in his eye. “What’s this I hear about Janny getting a part in a song?”

Janus facepalmed. Roman, Virgil, and Patton exchanged frantic looks. Logan pinched the space between his eyebrows.

“For the love of Chris Evans,” Thomas moaned. “Not you, too.”

“Um, _yes_ , me too.” Remus held up his head with his chin in his palm, fluttering his eyelashes at Thomas. “Aw, what, putting me in the song is gonna make it too scary?” He imitated a babying voice. “Are you _scawed_ , Tommy?”

Everyone held their breath, watching Thomas for how he was going to react. They expected him to run out of the room, hide under a blanket, or yell for Remus to leave. 

Instead, after a moment of contemplation, Thomas _laughed_.

“I’ll think about it, bud,” he said, brushing back his hair with a hand. “It’s too late for me to make any big decisions right now. How about we just enjoy the movie tonight, huh?”

Remus blinked, one eye at a time, like a frog. But then he grinned, conjuring a black, bubbling concoction that he sipped out of a dark green mug that read _Not Your Momma’s Creativity_. “Okay, Tommy, you’ve got a deal. Now press play already! I’ll take notes on Aaron to use for your _saucy_ dreams tonight.”

“Ehehe, okay, maybe.” Thomas’s laugh had become embarrassed as he tugged at his shirt collar. “We’ll talk about that later. Everyone ready to dive back in?”

The sides concurred, awestruck, and Thomas turned the movie back on.

Throughout the film, Thomas snuck little glances at each side, pleased to see everyone enjoying themselves. Patton got a kick out of Karen’s one-liners. Virgil commented on how he had a spiritual connection with Janis. Logan and Roman picked apart Cady’s plan to take down the Plastics and made fun of the movie’s plot holes. Remus cracked dirty jokes at every chance he could.

And Janus slowly eased into his seat on the couch, finally comfortable, a small smile on his face the whole time. 

Thomas wore a smile himself, snuggling deep into his blanket and snacking on popcorn. He was warm and cozy, his stomach full and his heart even fuller. Before he knew it, his eyes were slipping closed, and he was slumping to the side.

It wasn’t until the movie was over that the sides realized Thomas had dozed off halfway through. Patton eased Thomas to lie down on the couch and draped the blanket over him while Roman lowered the volume on the TV, knowing Thomas would like the white noise while he slept. Logan charged Thomas’s phone and set an alarm on it for the next morning. Virgil scouted the house to make sure everything was locked, unplugged, and where it should be. 

During all of this, Janus and Remus formed a group huddle by the dining room table.

“So he accepted you,” Remus said. He was no longer “in the buff” and had conjured a onesie for himself to wear that resembled Michael Keaton’s striped suit in _Beetlejuice_ (much to Janus’s relief). “You’re part of the gang now?”

“So it should seem,” Janus replied. “And you’re next.”

Remus’s chuckle was dark and short. “In my dreams and Tommy’s nightmares. I’ll never fit in with them, Janny.”

“That’s the point.” Janus removed one of his gloves, staring into his very human palm and tracing a finger along the pattern of loops that made up his handprint. “We’ll never fit in with them. But Thomas will accept us anyway. We’re parts of him, no matter what.”

Remus’s smirk was unapologetic, if a little somber. “Easy to say when he’s singing your praises in his new smash single on the web.”

“Are you kidding? A version of the song for you would break the Internet.”

“Ooh, I do like to break things. You know me too well, my venomous villain.”

“All I’m saying is…” Janus slipped his glove back on as Thomas rolled over in his sleep, mumbling for one of his brothers to stop stealing his graham crackers ( _Weirdo_ , he thought fondly). “Give him time.”

“Oh, there’s hope for me? Well, then, I’ve got nothing _but_ time.” Remus was gleeful. “We’ve got a _lot_ to explore in that naughty noggin of his, but…” He looked at Thomas, smirk becoming affectionate. “For now, this is good enough.”

Good enough.

And so much time and opportunity to continue to make it better.

“Hey, Pinky and the Brain,” Virgil whispered from the other side of the living room. “We’re heading out to let Thomas sleep.”

“An interesting comparison,” Janus mused. “Who’s who?”

“ _I’m_ clearly the Brain,” Remus scoffed. “Didn’t Thomas tell you about my bobbing for Adam’s apples idea for the channel? _Gen-ius_.” 

Virgil shuddered. “Good luck with that, Freakazoid. I’m sure he’ll definitely go for that one.”

“It’s a work in progress,” Remus answered. “We’re working through the kinks. Emphasis on _kink_ ,” he added, winking.

“And on that note,” Patton interrupted with a nervous laugh, “goodnight, kiddos!”

Everyone sunk out one-by-one, until Janus was the last remaining side. He watched Thomas sleep for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

For the first time, he wasn’t a dash of a spice that overpowered the other flavors.

He wasn’t a last-minute pinch of salt that ruined the whole dish.

There wasn’t anything wrong about him.

He was one of the perfect ingredients to the perfect recipe.

A self-assured smile gracing his lips, Janus sunk out.

As he left, Thomas’s phone continued to blow up with notifications from YouTube as people liked, shared, and commented on his new video. And with every sign of love, the title blared across the screen, a nightlight that comforted Thomas and his six sides as he slept peacefully.

_Recipe for Me (Janus’s Edition) | Sanders Sides_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! This was a blast to write and an amazing experience. This has been a crazy year, so I hope this little story gave you some laughs and was as fun for you as it was for me. I hope you all enjoyed reading!  
> Thank you and stay safe!!!  
> \- TwistingMoonbeam


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